


Just Take a Breath and Seal the Deal

by FredAndGinger



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bullying, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Jeremy is ride or die for Michael, M/M, Panic Attacks, The Fake Dating AU No One Asked For, actually headcannon Michael as trilingual, bilingual character, his dad is also a teacher in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 22:52:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12970161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FredAndGinger/pseuds/FredAndGinger
Summary: “So I got really mad at them, right? And I told them I was dating a guy.” Michael admitted.“Who?”“Uh.” Michael swallowed, hard. The moment of truth. “You.”In which Michael accidentally comes out to his parents and tells them he's dating Jeremy, and Jeremy just goes along with it. Maybe one day these boys will make good decisions, but today is not that day.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am so excited for this fic guys, you have no idea. I've been planning so long and there's actually going to be real _sex_ and _jokes_ and it's gonna be lit fam.

Michael rested his head against the steering wheel, his car parked in his driveway. He was trying to muster up the will to get out of his car and into his house, it had been the worst day. 

First, his alarm went off late so he couldn’t get gas before school and he’d rushed out the door. Then, at lunch on his way back from 7/11 (whose slushie machine was broken) his car actually ran out of gas so that he had was late to class. He’d gotten detention for that, because his math teacher is a nightmare, and Jeremy was all worried about him and it seemed to trigger some Squip-thing because his best friend zoned out for pretty much the rest of the day. 

Man, Michael felt guilty about that. 

Then Michael had to go to PE and like, it should have been fine, right? He had Rich with him that hour. Except Rich skipped to go hang out with Jake so Michael got his favorite pairs of shoes taken (the white ones with the high tops) and he had to wear his stupid gym shoes around for the rest of the day. It shouldn’t have bugged him that much but come on, those shoes were the most conventionally cool thing about him. 

Then he bombed the chemistry test that he’d stayed up all night studying for, and he had to spend the entire test time there, _trying_ not to fail, because people got to leave when they finished and he just _wasn’t smart enough_. 

Mr. Wilson was totally going to tell his dad about this, the snitch. Why did his dad have to work at the school? Why couldn’t he work at some… other high school or something? And that’s probably why he got a text from his dad saying family meeting after he got out of detention. 

Michael took a deep breath and unbuckled. He had to go inside sooner or later, and when it was all over he could scream into his pillow like he’d wanted to all day. 

Michael unlocked the side door and walked in, shoving his shoes into his backpack as soon as he was in the entryway. He didn’t want his mom to ask questions about where they were again. He stepped into the kitchen to see both his parents there, drinking tea. Not a great sign. 

“I know, I’ll study harder,” Michael said, taking a seat across from them. His parents shared a look. “I’m telling you, I just don’t get chemical-” 

“ _Anak_ , we’re not here to talk about your grades,” his mom said slowly, fiddling with something under the table. 

_Oh god, they found my pot. Or my Squip research. Or both. Oh my god, they found both._

“Oh?” He asked, trying to keep his voice casual. 

“You… you left in such a rush this morning, I was worried that you might have forgotten something, so I went to check your room…” his mom trailed off, before lifting up a shirt. Michael felt the blood drain from his face. 

He could see, so clearly in his mind, how he’d tugged a shirt from the bottom of his drawer that morning and how it had caused all of his other shirts to basically explode all over the floor. He’d groaned and made a decision to deal with it _later_. 

The shirt his mom held up said “Move I’m Gay” in bold rainbow letters. She was silent, his dad was silent, the room was silent, and Michael felt like he might have ascended from that plain of being just from the sheer awkwardness of the whole thing. 

“Oh,” Michael said with a forced laugh, “That’s, uh… Jeremy’s.” 

“It’s not his size,” his mom countered. 

“He uses it as a pajama shirt.” 

“What about the others?” 

“The others?” Michael asked, his voice going up an unconvincing octave. His mom reached under the table, where there was a box full of gay T-shirts. Michael looked up. 

_So, if something wants to strike me with lightning, now would be the time._

No lightning came. Michael looked back to his mom, who was talking about the ones that looked _homemade_. (They were, but having it pointed out was _embarrassing_ ). 

“Okay, okay.” Michael said, waving his hands to make her _stop_. “Yeah. I’m, uh. Gay.” 

There was a moment of silence. Michael’s heart was hammering in his chest. 

“Are you sure?” His dad asked, the first thing he’d said since this whole fiasco started. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure.” Michael said, looking at the table, not wanting to meet his dad’s eyes. 

“I mean, you’ve never dated anyone before.” Michael’s mom chimed in. Michael’s head snapped up to look at her. She wasn’t looking at him either, “You never know.” 

“You might just not have met the right girl!” Michael’s dad said, and Michael sank in his seat. He didn’t want to hear this. “What about that girl you hang out with? Chloe?” 

Michael laughed despite himself, “I will _not_ date Chloe Valentine. I… I have a boyfriend. So I know I’m gay.” 

“ _Hijo_ , we’d know if you were dating someone.” His father said, so sure of himself. Michael fumed internally. 

_Oh, you’d **know**? Just like you knew when Jeremy stopped hanging out with me for two months? Just like how you knew I’ve been gay for five years? Just like you knew when I wanted to **die** most of last year? You don’t know anything!_

And Michael blamed this whole ball of teen angst for his reply, which was : “I’m dating Jeremy.” 

Another one of those moments of silence. Michael’s mom opened and closed her mouth a few times, like she wanted to say something but couldn’t. 

“Oh.” She said at last. 

“Yeah.” Michael said.

“Oh, you really… you really are gay.” She said. Michael nodded. 

“We support you, son.” Michael’s dad said, and wow. That shouldn’t have been as much of a shock as it really was, “We just wanted you to be sure. It’s hard, you know, for immigrant’s kids here. And it’s harder for the LGBT community, so we just didn’t… we didn’t want your life to be harder than it had to be.”

Michael suddenly regretted his rage. His parents weren’t being homophobic (okay, they _were_ but it was coming from a place of love). 

“So, this… you’re not mad at me?” He asked, suddenly afraid without his anger to protect him. 

“Oh, _dayong_ we could never be _mad_ about this.” His mom said, reaching across the table and bringing him to her in an awkward-yet-comforting hug. 

“Oh. Okay.” He said. She let him go after a long moment, wiping at her eyes, “I’m, uh… I’m gonna go to… Jeremy’s now.” 

Michael left his house, immediately stepping in a puddle with his shoe-less feet. His socks were soaked. He looked mournfully back at his house, where his pillow awaited on his bed to be screamed into. Michael sighed and instead got into his car.

His pillow would have to wait for Scream Time later. He needed to fill Jeremy in on what just happened. 

…

“Michael! What are you doing here?” Jeremy asked, opening the door for his friend. It had started raining on the drive over and he’d had to wait five whole minutes for his friend to answer the door and he hadn’t put his shoes back on because they were in his backpack at home and-

Michael took a deep breath. He could get through this. 

“Jere, I need to talk to you,” Michael said. He glanced over at the living room, where Mr. Heere was watching Wheel of Fortune, “Uh, in your room.” 

“Huh? Okay.” Jeremy said, leading him to his room, “Uh, do you want… like shoes or something? Socks? A blanket?” 

“More than anything, Jeremy. More than anything.” Michael said, lightly taking a seat on Jeremy’s desk chair. His friend rummaged around in his closet, pulling out a shirt, sweatpants, and socks. Michael hugged them to his chest. 

“Jeremiah, you are a saint.” He said, unzipping his hoodie so that he could change. Jeremy laughed, pointing to his shirt. _Sounds Gay, I’m In_ written in rainbow letters across his chest. 

“Your mom is gonna find those one day,” Jeremy snickered. Michael paused, almost ready to check the room for hidden cameras. There was no way that comment was coincidental. 

“Um,” Michael said, quickly pulling off his shirt and pulling on the old-school Mario shirt Jeremy had handed him, “About that…” 

“About what?” 

Michael debated taking off his pants. Did he want to have this conversation in his boxers? No. No, he really did not. He unzipped them anyways. 

“So, my parents, uh… they found out I’m gay.” Michael said, struggling out of his wet skinny jeans. At least it gave him something to focus on rather than Jeremy’s face. He tripped. Jeremy caught him. 

“What?” Jeremy asked. He sounded genuinely confused. Did he not know Michael was gay? “They didn’t know you were gay?” 

Oh. “Yeah, uh… they’re like, not _conservative_ but they have, like _traditional values_ so I thought… I didn’t want to tell them, you know?” Michael stuttered, pulling the new pants on. Good, now he could tell Jeremy the full story and stop stalling. 

“I just… I thought everyone knew you were gay.” Jeremy said, “Wow, you’re like so open about it- How did they find out?” 

“My mom found my shirt.” 

Jeremy laughed. Michael would have joined him if it weren't for the severity of the situation. Jeremy’s laughter died down when he realized that Michael was serious. 

“Oh, you’re serious,” he said, wiping at a tear on his face, “Yes. That sucks, man. I’m sorry. How did they take it?” 

Michael would have glared at him for the laughter that was still in his voice, but he needed to be on Jeremy’s good side, needed Jeremy to do him this _huge favor_. 

“They, uh, didn’t believe me.” Michael said, more to the floor than to Jeremy. He expected his friend to laugh again, but he just felt a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

“Fuck that,” Jeremy said, “That’s so dumb. How can you get gayer?” 

“They, uh, said that I couldn’t be sure because I never dated a guy.” 

“That’s so stupid! How did they know they were straight before they dated, then?” Jeremy asked, sounding increasingly mad on his behalf. Michael’s heart fluttered in his chest, but he stomped that upstart butterfly down. He couldn’t have emotions right now, couldn’t keep up his feelings for Jeremy-

“So I got really mad at them, right? And I told them I was dating a guy.” Michael admitted. 

“Who?” 

“Uh.” Michael swallowed, hard. The moment of truth. “You.” 

“Oh.” 

There was a moment of silence. Michael thought he should have been used to them by now, but they seemed to get worse and more dread-filled by the minute. 

“How’d they take that?” Jeremy asked at last. His face gave nothing away. At least he wasn’t mad? 

“They… they told me that they would support me and, uh… they actually didn’t sound that surprised that we were dating.” Michael said. He wished he had his hoodie on, he felt too exposed like this. He hugged himself for warmth. Why did he feel like shaking? 

“So, um… what do you want to do?” Jeremy asked, “Like… what’s the plan here?” 

Michael laughed bitterly, “There is no plan. I just fucking… I didn’t think. I’m going to have to tell them I lied and I’m gonna have to listen to them talk about me like I’m _confused_ , unless you _want to date me_ and there’s no way-” 

“I’d do it.” Jeremy said. Michael looked at him, too afraid to hope, “I’ll pretend to date you or whatever.” 

_Pretend_. The word felt like a icicle stabbed into his heart. The murder weapon would melt away and no one would know how crushed he was by Jeremy Heere. And he said it so _casually_. 

But then again, he’d agreed to pretend. That wasn’t even… Michael never thought that Jeremy would take his sarcasm seriously. But, well… if he was _offering_. 

“Yeah.” Michael said, nodding, “We could do that. Um. We’d have to keep it up at school, you know, my dad…” 

Jeremy nodded along, “We, uh, probably shouldn’t tell our friends either. Jenna isn’t exactly… great… at keeping secrets.” 

Michael snorted, “That’s an understatement. We can’t tell your dad either, he talks to my parents way too much. And he’d figure out that something was up sooner or later.” 

“Later, most likely.” Jeremy grumbled. Michael accepted this display of teen angst with a nod. It wasn’t like he _didn’t_ complain about his parents all the time. “It’s a deal. I’ll be your boyfriend.” 

“Boyfriend,” Michael said, trying out the word. It felt good, but he felt a pang of guilt when he looked at Jeremy. “Yeah, we can do this. We can convince them.” 

“Well, _boyfriend_ , I’m going to kick your ass at Mario Kart.” Jeremy said. Michael smiled, Jeremy always knew how to brighten his day. 

“That’s domestic violence.” Michael said, but he grabbed a controller anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave kudos, I need them to get Christmas presents from the mall (I need to fight a white mom for that last Hug Me Elmo)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Michael didn’t want that, didn’t want to fall out of reality and into some fake thing he’d constructed, especially since he knew Jeremy didn’t feel the same way._
> 
> Michael and Jeremy’s first day of fake dating

“So, do we have any, like boundaries for this whole… thing?” Jeremy asked. He was in Michael’s car on the way to school. They’d decided that boyfriends would totally ride to school together every day, right? Plus then they’d get to talk about it. 

Michael kept his eyes on the road, happy he didn’t have to awkwardly look at his best friend while he spoke, “Yeah, uh, I was thinking that we would set an end date or something.” 

Putting an expiration date on their relationship had seemed like a good idea. That way Michael couldn’t extend it into infinity, preying on Jeremy’s goodwill and pretending forever. Michael didn’t want that, didn’t want to fall out of reality and into some fake thing he’d constructed, especially since he knew Jeremy didn’t feel the same way. 

“What day were you thinking?” Jeremy asked, “Your parents think we’ve been dating for a while, right?” 

“Yeah.” Michael said, “I was thinking right after Homecoming. We can, like, ‘mutually decide we don’t want to date’ after that. I think my parents are excited for me to have a date for a dance though.” 

Jeremy nodded in agreement, “I think my dad would be more heartbroken than me if I had to go to Homecoming alone after this.” 

Michael swallowed a lump of guilt in his throat. He and Jeremy had had to “come out” to Mr. Heere the night before, telling him that they’d been “dating” behind his back since the beginning of summer. Jeremy’s dad had been vastly offended that they hadn’t divulged that information to him, that they hadn’t _trusted_ him. 

He also told them that he “knew it” and that he needed to call Jeremy’s mom because “he was right and she was wrong”. Jeremy had gone pretty pale at that. Michael pitied him, at least his parents never took bets on his sexuality. 

“Do you have any, like, personal boundaries?” Michael asked, glancing at Jeremy when they stopped at a red light. Jeremy shrugged. 

“Not really. It’s just going to be, like, hand-holding and some kisses, right? I can deal with that.” He said, his voice _too_ casual. Michael knew he was freaking out. 

“I’ll… I’ll let you take the reins on that one.” Michael said, nervously, “I don’t… I don’t want to overstep myself or anything.” 

“What do you mean?” Jeremy asked. 

_I’m gay, Jeremy. I can’t just **touch** you and **hold your hand** and **kiss** you like it’s **normal** and **fine**. It’s… I feel predatory, like I’m taking advantage of you because you don’t **know**..._

“I don’t have any boundaries, Jere.” Michael said, “You can do whatever and I’m fine, but you’re straight or whatever so I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” 

“Oh,” Jeremy said, nodding, “That makes sense I guess. But I’m fine with all of it too, you can hold my hand or whatever and it’ll be cool.” 

“Sure.” Michael said, trying to appease him. They pulled into the parking lot and Michael parked in his usual spot. They both sat in the car, silent except for the music, preparing themselves. 

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” Michael said, “I’d understand.” 

“No man,” Jeremy said, shaking his head, “Anyone would be lucky to date you, and besides, I owe you for all your help with the Squip last year.” 

Another pang in Michael’s heart. He needed to find a way to repay Jeremy, this was too much. But he nodded to accept it anyways. 

They got out of the car and walked towards the building. Right before Michael was about to open the door, Jeremy grabbed his hand. Michael tried to contain his surprise, but he couldn’t quite drown the smile that he gave Jeremy as they walked into the building, ready to face the day. 

…

“You’ve been holding hands with Jeremy.” Jenna said, setting her books down next to Michael during second period: history. How had word gotten around so fast? No one had commented on it. 

“I mean, he’s my boyfriend.” Michael said, looking at his book rather than her. He stared at the washed-out picture of the confederate flag with the caption “Current Connection: Southern Pride” beneath it. Jenna make a choked off laugh-sound that Michael couldn’t possibly interpret if he tried.

“He’s your what now?” She asked, her voice full of amusement. Like she thought this was a joke, like she couldn’t believe him. He swallowed hard and flipped the page. There was more racist nonsense. He closed the book and looked at Jenna.

“Yeah, um. We’ve kind of been dating a while?” Michael said, raising his voice in a question. Jenna gasped, looking mortally offended. “Since the summer?” 

“You didn’t _tell me_?” She demanded, “Michael, I thought we were friends!” 

“We are!” He protested, “It’s just, I didn’t want my _dad_ to find out, I… I kind of came out to them last night.” 

“You did? Congrats! How’d it go?” Jenna asked. Her thumbs were poised over her phone. He knew that their group chat was going to explode with the details any second. Well, it was better for the squad to hear it from her than him anyways, that way he’d only have to talk about it a little. 

“Yeah, they didn’t think I was gay because they didn’t know I was dating a guy? So it all kind of… spilled out. They’re fine with it though, it’s just been a little awkward.” Michael said. Jenna typed furiously, nodding. 

“So, how did you get together?” Jenna asked. 

“Uh-” Michael was so screwed, how had he not come up with a cover story? He was about to just spout off the first thing that came to mind, but then the teacher walked in, saving him. 

“Ms. Rolan, if I have to ask you to put your phone away again I will be locking it in my desk until the end of the day.” Mrs. Ferdinand said, glaring at them. Jenna and Michael turned so that they were facing the front and Jenna stowed her phone in her bag. 

“Details at lunch.” Jenna whispered, like a threat. Michael prayed that Jeremy thought of a better backstory. 

…

Michael didn’t have any classes with his friends again until lunch, where (since he decided not to go to 7/11) he ended up with a gross-looking chicken patty on a plastic tray. He set it down at their table and waited, since he was the first to arrive. He put on his headphones, his universal signal that he didn’t want to talk, and blasted some jams as he choked down his food. 

Jenna sat down quickly after, followed by Brooke, Chloe, and Rich. They were having a conversation that Michael couldn’t hear, and he tuned them out, trying to buy time before Jeremy arrived, when he felt a hand come down to cover his own. 

Jeremy was holding his hand again, Michael smiled at him in surprise and lowered his headphones. 

“Hey man.” Jeremy said, “How was class?” 

“So the rumors are true,” Rich gasped, “You’ve joined the bisexual alliance, Jeremy.” 

“I’ve been in the bisexual alliance, dude.” Jeremy scoffed. Michael almost believed him, he said it with such confidence, “But yeah, Jenna was right. We’re dating.” 

“Aw! Congrats, guys! We knew you’d figure it out eventually!” Brooke cooed, resting her head on her hands, “I want all the mushy details. How did you guys get together?” 

_Have I really been that obvious with my crush?_

“Uh…” Michael floundered. He squeezed Jeremy’s hand, trying to convey his distress. 

“After Christine moved away I was bummed, so I went over to Michael’s. We got like, really stoned in his basement and I told him I was in love with him. It was kinda stressful ‘cause I, uh, told him while he was taking a hit so he coughed for a while instead of talking to me, but- um. When he was done coughing he told me he really wanted to date me. So we’ve been going out ever since.” Jeremy explained. 

“Hey man, I was way more romantic than that.” Michael protested, not knowing where he was going with that, praying that Jeremy would just bounce off his jokes like he always did, like his wasn’t _weird_

“Shotgunning pot afterwards isn’t romantic, Michael.” Jeremy said, blushing. Michael gasped, feigning offense. 

“You know you love it, Jere, don’t lie to me.” 

“How did we not see that they were dating?” Chloe asked, “God, get a room.” 

The rest of the lunch period passed smoothly after that. Jake came late after a lunchtime Model U.N. meeting and gave them both high fives for “hitting that”, which was weird but fine. 

After lunch math (Michael’s only class with Jeremy) passed smoothly, though Michael stole glances at his best friend every .05 seconds. He couldn’t help it, he wanted to _talk_ to him. Jeremy kept brushing their hands together as they worked at the same table, even though they didn’t have anyone to act for. Every touch sent a jolt to Michael’s heart. 

The real trouble came in gym class. Rich had skipped again, so Michael was left alone with all the douchebags of the senior class, all at once. 

“What are you doing?” Some asshole, (Joe? Allen? What was his name?) asked as Michael took off his shirt. 

“Changing for gym. Why? What does it look like I’m doing?” Michael asked. 

“In front of us? But you’re gay, that’s so gross.” He said. Michael frowned, was this really happening in this day and age? 

“Yeah? I have to get ready for gym.” Michael said. 

“Change in a stall! I don’t want you looking at me, man!” 

Michael looked around. No one was about to come to his rescue. Without an ally he was defeated before the battle even began. He scooped up his clothes. 

“Fine, whatever.” He said, and made his strategic retreat. 

He was two minutes late because he’d had to struggle in the gym stall, and he was late leaving for the same reason. When he left the stall of the locker room bathroom, though, he thought his luck had changed when he saw his shoes hanging in the abandoned locker room.

He stopped dead in his tracks when he got close enough. Someone had taken a black sharpie to his perfect white shoes and wrote “faggot” on them. He felt like he’d swallowed lead, his heart weighed down and his throat closed up.

Michael felt hot tears pricking behind his eyes, but he took a deep breath. He could deal with this. It would be fine. He was _not_ going to cry in the boy’s locker room. They were _just shoes_

He stowed them in his backpack, not about to let _anyone_ else see them, and left. He hoped that he left the situation behind him as well, hoped he could forget all about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave kudos, I need them for my legal fees involving a mall fight and a Hug Me Elmo.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _After he’d pulled himself together and messed with his hair an embarrassingly long time he sighed at looked at himself in the mirror, staring into his own eyes. They say that you can read a lot in a person’s eyes, but all he could see in his own was an intense feeling of dread._   
>  _“Michael, what have you gotten yourself into?” He asked himself. His reflection did not answer back._
> 
> Michael and Jeremy go on a date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finals are over! I am freeeeeee. I think I'll be putting this on an update schedule for Tuesdays and Saturdays.

Michael sighed as he lie on top of his blankets, headphones on and music blasting. Finally, relaxation. The last two days of the week had been _stressful_ and he just needed a minute to catch his breath, to breathe easy. 

He’d be breathing easier if he didn’t feel a crushing guilt in his chest from lying to every person he knew. Except Jeremy. Well, Jeremy was included, he just got a different spin on the lie that was Michael’s entire existence. 

Jeremy could never know he had a crush on him, that would make all of this weird. Right now Jeremy was just covering for him, what would he do if he knew Michael _liked_ him? He wasn’t a terrible person, so he wouldn’t be like the kids in their class, but… would he abandon him again? That would be worse, then he’d be alone and an easy target and-

Michael cracked his eye open to steal a glance at his closet. He couldn’t see it, since he didn’t have his glasses on, but it felt like his vandalized shoes were mocking him from where they were buried. He really should throw them away, but… 

_No, I’m not going to think about it. This is my day to relax, I’m going to sit here, listen to my jams, and chill the fuck out._

He closed his eyes and willed the music to wash over him. He didn’t want to have to deal with any of that right now. He just wanted to remain calm. 

Michael’s eyes snapped open as his calming music stopped in favor of the loving screech of a dial-up modem. It was his ringtone. He looked at the phone in confusion, debating answering. 

It was Jeremy. He never wanted to hang out on Saturdays anymore, at least not just the two of them. And he rarely called, said something about _texting being cooler_. Was it some kind of emergency? Did he butt dial him?

“Hey dude, what’s up?” Michael asked, hoping his voice wasn’t giving away his existential crisis. 

“Hey babe!” Jeremy said, and Michael’s heart swooped through a confusion of adoration and guilt, “Do you want to go on a date?” 

“I… wh-what?” Michael asked. This was not a course of action he was prepared for. _Abort. Abort._ Jeremy laughed nervously. 

“Yeah, my dad suggested that we go out, since we, uh, ‘don’t have anything to hide anymore’.” Jeremy said, obviously quoting his father, “I think it’s a pretty good idea.” 

It all clicked for Michael. Jeremy’s dad must have been right there, listening. Mr. Heere had brought it up, it wasn’t Jeremy wanting to spend time with him or wanting to be with him or….

_Of course. Why would he want to spend his weekend with me anyways? We hang out after school, he’s probably glad to have a break from me and now Mr. Heere is ruining it…_

“Yeah, of course!” Michael said, putting on his most cheerful voice, “I’m totally down! Just let me put some real pants on.” 

“Please wear pants. For my sake.” Jeremy said, his voice dramatically pleading. Michael could have sworn he heard Mr. Heere in the background protesting. He laughed. “Want to pick me up at noon?” 

“Sure,” Michael said, nodding even though he knew that Jeremy couldn’t see it, “See you then!” 

Jeremy hung up. Michael’s calm music started playing again. He put his face in his hands and let out a long, frustrated noise. He felt a little better. He had to get ready. 

After he’d pulled himself together and messed with his hair an embarrassingly long time he sighed at looked at himself in the mirror, staring into his own eyes. They say that you can read a lot in a person’s eyes, but all he could see in his own was an intense feeling of dread.

“Michael, what have you gotten yourself into?” He asked himself. His reflection did not answer back. 

…

Michael picked Jeremy up and, after a brief debate on where to go, they settled on the mall. Michael figured that it would be good, a short date or whatever. He didn’t want to waste Jeremy’s entire Saturday. 

“This is going to be great,” Jeremy said, obsessively looking back at Michael’s car as if he was trying to take a photograph in his mind on where it was. “I can’t remember the last time we hung out outside of your basement.” 

_I can. We went to the mall to go to Payless to get a fucking **supercomputer**._

“Me either,” Michael said, bumping their shoulders together, “Let’s go to GameStop!” 

Jeremy took Michael’s hand-- _oh yeah we’re dating_ \--and led the way to their collective favorite store in the mall.

After testing the games set up for trial for probably longer than the store manager should have allowed, they started to wander the mall. Michael noticed Jeremy looking longingly after the geriatric woman offering free pretzel bite samples. They’d already gotten their rations from her and it evidently wasn’t cutting it. 

“Hey, you want to get some chili fries or something?” Michael asked, already leading the way to the food court. 

“Michael, I could kiss you.” Jeremy said, squeezing his hand slightly as he said it. Michael soaked the attention up. 

“I wanted to sit down anyways.” 

After sending Jeremy to save them the booth and securing the chili fries, Michael sat down across from him and set the fries down. Jeremy immediately started eating them, mumbling out a “thanks” through his food. 

“Hey, I gotta go to the bathroom real quick. I’ll be back in a minute.” Michael said. A look flashed across Jeremy’s face.

“I, uh… I gotta go too, I’ll go with.” Jeremy said, moving to get up. 

“Nah, dude, you have those fries. One of us has to stay out here.” Michael said, confused. Jeremy wasn’t meeting his eyes. 

“No, it’s cool, I’ll just bring them in with us.” 

“Dude. Gross.” Michael said, sticking his tongue out, “What’s gotten into you?” 

“It’s just… It feels a lot like last time we were here, you know?” Jeremy asked, lowering his voice like he was saying something embarrassing, something he didn’t want Michael to hear, “Like, we’re in the same seat, I’ve got chili fries, you’re leaving to go somewhere, and I… I don’t know.”

_Oh._ Michael thought, feeling a pang in his chest for Jeremy. _The Squip really messed him up right from day one, didn’t it?_

“Jeremy,” Michael said, taking his friend’s hand. It was the first real contact he’d initiated and Jeremy looked up at him. “I’m just going to pee. The bathroom is right there, I’ll text you once I’m walking out. I promise I’ll be back, but I’m not abandoning you, okay? And if you’re not here when I get back I’ll sit here until you do.” 

Jeremy laughed nervously, “You don’t have to do all that, I’m just being overdramatic-”

“It’s fine, Jeremy. I want to.” Michael said, and he let go of Jeremy’s hand. He could feel his eyes on his back all the way to the restroom. 

After the most stressful pee Michael had ever had in his life, he looked at himself as he washed his hands in the sink. Mirror Michael still looked just as stressed as the last time Michael had visited. Dude needed more sleep. 

Jeremy’s relief was visible when Michael walked out, his shoulders sagging and a light smile coming to his lips. Michael shot a text to his friend, as promised, as he walked the short distance back. 

“You doing okay?” Michael asked. Jeremy took his hand. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good now. Sorry about that.” 

“Dude, it’s fine. I get it, man.” 

“I’m just-” 

Michael never found out what Jeremy was going to say, because at that moment he glanced over and saw a familiar boy standing in line at the shitty pizza place. 

“Is that Jake?” Michael asked, “What’s he doing here?” 

Jake seemed to have heard him, perking up and looking around for the source of his name. When he saw the two of them he waved excitedly. 

“Hey guys!” He yelled across the space. People looked over at him. Michael wanted to melt in his seat, but not as much as he was sure Jeremy did, “What are you doing here?” 

Michael opened his mouth, but then shut it. He glanced at Jeremy. One look at his sweaty mess of a friend confirmed that he was not going to save Michael from answering. 

“Oh, you know.” Michael said vaguely, “Hanging or whatever.” 

“You got a space for me to sit at?” Jake asked. Michael glanced around the food court. It was largely empty. 

“Sure!” He called back, putting as much enthusiasm into his voice as he could physically muster. It wasn’t a lot.

“But we’re on a date.” Jeremy said, quietly. Michael bit his lip. What the fuck did that mean? 

“It’s cool,” Michael said, brushing off Jeremy’s concern, “Your friends are cool. I know you’d rather be hanging out with them if you didn’t have to take me on this date or whatever.” 

“Dude-” Jeremy began, but Jake came over with his plate of pizza and plopped down next to them. 

“Hey guys, how’s it going?” Jake asked, before taking a giant bite from his pizza. He moaned into the mass produced cheese, “This is amazing.” 

“It’s good!” Michael said, picking at Jeremy’s chili fries, “We just went to GameStop and stuff.” 

“Dudes, that’s rad. You know, we should totally hit up that big sporting goods store, it has like a little hunting game set up.”

“Uh, sure-” Michael began, but Jeremy cut him off. 

“Actually, uh… we’re kind of on a date right now, Jake.” Jeremy said, blushing, “So, um, maybe some other time?” 

“Oh. Oh!” Jake said, looking between them, “My bad! I’ll just go find Dustin, I know he’s around here somewhere.” 

With that, Jake picked up his tray and wandered away. Michael looked back at Jeremy in surprise. 

“I… you didn’t have to do that.” Michael said, “I don’t want to keep you from your friends.” 

“Dude, we haven’t had a full day to hang out in forever. Let’s hit up Spencer’s for some of that awful New Coke and go see a movie.” Jeremy said, before shoving the last of his fries in his mouth. Michael had never been more in love with him. 

“Sounds good.” He said, trying and failing to keep the glee out of his voice. Jeremy just smiled back at him. 

…

The rest of the date passed smoothly after that. It was just like how weekends used to be for them, hanging at the mall, eating junk and buying $2 buttons at Hot Topic. They saw some Marvel movie in the theater attached to the mall, which was awesome (especially since Jeremy loved superheroes). They left the theater when it was dark out, so Michael decided that he should drive Jeremy home. 

“And then he came out of _nowhere_ and just _destroyed_ the guy!” Jeremy said excitedly. He was still talking about the movie. They were in his driveway. 

“I know!” Michael said, trying to match his friend’s hype. He was nervous though, it felt like the end of a real date. How was he supposed to ask Jeremy to get out of his car? Was he supposed to walk him to the door. 

“I had fun.” Jeremy said, unbuckling. 

“Same,” Michael said, intending to stay in the car. His resolve crumbled when he saw Jeremy hesitate, recognizing the uncertainty in his eyes, “I’ll walk you to the door.” 

“Cool.” 

The walk was short. It was a driveway. 

“So,” Michael said, “Wanna… maybe do this again sometime?” 

“Next week?” Jeremy asked, and his voice was so hopeful it wasn’t like Michael was going to say _no_. 

“Yeah, next week.” He agreed. They stood there in silence for a moment. “So, uh, I’m gonna get back in my car-” 

Michael stopped, he’d noticed a movement. Jeremy’s dad had peeked out from behind the curtain, but when he saw Michael’s gaze he dropped it. Michael looked to Jeremy. 

“What?” Jeremy asked. 

“Your dad. He’s looking at us.” 

“Oh. Oh! I, uh. I think he thinks you’re gonna kiss me.” Jeremy said, more to the porch than to Michael. Michael fiddled with the sleeves of his hoodie. He could do this. 

“I, uhm. I can.” Michael breathed. He could do this. Jeremy looked back up at him. He couldn’t do this. 

“Yeah.” Jeremy said, nodding. 

Michael nodded back once, firmly, and reached out, cupping Jeremy’s cheek. He took a step forward, bringing him close enough to feel Jeremy’s breath on his face. He leaned in slowly and pressed a soft kiss to Jeremy’s lips, lingering a moment before he pulled back. 

Jeremy’s eyes fluttered open. He grinned at Michael. 

“See you Monday, dude.” He said, before opening the door and disappearing inside. 

“Yeah,” Michael said as the door slammed in his face, “See you.” 

… 

It was Wednesday night when Jeremy finally came over to Michael’s house after school to hang out. Michael’s parents were still at work, which meant that they didn’t have to pretend and they could just be themselves. Just guys being dudes. Bros playing games. 

Michael was feeling a little bummed at the moment, since the assholes in his gym class were still harassing him. They’d taken to pounding on his stall door while he changed, which made _no sense_ since they were the ones who wanted him to change there in the first place. 

Today they’d shoved him to the floor so that his back hit the gross, wet floor of the locker room. He’d had to walk around with a damp back for the rest of the day. It’d been miserable. 

So Michael wasn’t exactly happy when Jeremy came over and was complaining about his perfectly fine day, being weird about the snacks, and getting unnecessarily frustrated at their video game. Finally, after the fifth time they lost a level and Jeremy looked like he was going to throw the controller, Michael paused the game. 

“Dude.” He said, frowning, “What is going on with you?” 

“What does that mean?” Jeremy asked defensively. Michael crossed his arms. 

“We’re playing this game on difficult. Sometimes you lose. That doesn’t mean you have to yell every swear word you know at my stuff, man. Samantha is delicate.”

To illustrate the point, Michael reached over and patted his console. She’d gotten him through some tough times and she deserved better. 

“Sorry, man.” Jeremy sighed, “I’ve just been… keyed up lately.” 

“What’s up? Is it the dating thing?” 

“No. Well, kind of… it’s Squip stuff.” Jeremy said, leaning back on his beanbag. 

Normally, Michael would have nodded and left it at that. Jeremy told him once, when he’d gotten out of the hospital, that he didn’t want to talk about it. But, if it was still getting to him after this long… 

“What… um. What kind of Squip stuff?” Michael asked tentatively. Jeremy looked at him, surprised. 

“Well…” He said, taking a deep breath, “It’s like- I can't do anything, you know? I feel all weird about whatever I do all the time, and half the time I can still hear it, and… and I can’t even-” 

“Can’t even what?” Michael asked. Jeremy was bright red, he looked like he regretted ever even opening his mouth. 

“I can’t jack off, Michael.” He said, “I, uh… it used to shock me when I did and I thought I got over it over the summer but… It’s been a little worse lately and…” 

“Oh.” Michael said. He didn’t expect this. Jeremy looked like he was wishing he could be anywhere in the world except right there. 

Michael wished there was some way he could help his friend out, but he had rules. He couldn’t do that, not while he had a crush on him. That would be bad, he’d feel bad about it, like he was getting something from it that Jeremy wasn’t. Plus it would make the whole thing even more awkward. 

But Jeremy just looked so _miserable_.

_Well, this can’t get more awkward than it already is._

“I can, um…” Michael swallowed. Sexy. “I can help you out, if you want?” 

“You-you don’t have to do that!” Jeremy said, “I wasn’t trying to make you, like, feel bad or-” 

“I mean, it’ll make you feel good, right? Sex is a stress reliever or whatever and… I mean, I’ve been making your life way more stressful lately.” Michael said with a laugh, trying to diffuse the tension. It didn’t work. 

“I mean… if you’re sure you want to,” Jeremy said slowly. He was still beet red, “Um, I wouldn’t be opposed?” 

“Cool.” Michael said, scooting forward, “I’ll just-” He reached for the front of Jeremy’s pants, unzipping them. Jeremy helped him to shimmy them, and his boxers, past his knees. 

He looked at Jeremy’s dick. He’d seen it before, of course. You can’t get through so many years of friendship without seeing your friend naked every once in awhile. But this way, with his dick already half hard and for _Michael_? 

_He’s not hard for me. He’s just really horny._ Michael reminded himself. He put his hand around Jeremy’s cock, slowly moving his hand up and down the shaft. It grew harder in his hand, twitching and leaking pre-cum. His hand stilled when Jeremy flinched. 

“I, uh… I don’t want you to stop but. I don’t think this is working?” Jeremy said, his voice unsure, “I, uh… your hand. It’s too much like jacking off, you know? It’s too-” 

Michael slid his thumb over the head of Jeremy’s cock, rendering him silent for a moment. He could give up here, his friend achingly hard with no way to solve it, or he could… 

Michael leaned down and licked the tip. Jeremey gasped. Michael took the flushed head into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. Jeremy made a high-pitched moan sound, something beyond words. He brought his hands up into Michael’s hair and Michael took more of his dick into his mouth. 

“Michael-” Jeremy gasped, pulling on Michael’s hair. He tried to take in more, but he couldn’t he still had a gag reflex, after all. 

Michael tried to do everything he’d read about on porn sites, everything he’d seen on the Spice Channel. He hummed, tried to create a vacuum of suction, bobbed his head, but it was when he lightly let his teeth graze Jeremy that Jeremy’s hips bucked up, trying to get deeper. 

Michael gagged a little. Jeremy tugged on his hair to try to pull him off, whispering “sorry, sorry,” but Michael just did it again, grazing his teeth teasingly across his friend’s cock. Jeremy shuddered with his whole body and Michael went back to bobbing his head like the blonde porn girls. 

“Mmm, Michael, I’m c-close,” Jeremy said, gasping for air. Michael was holding his hips still now, not wanting to choke again. Jeremy had a death grip on his hair and the tugging sensation was going straight to his own dick. 

He moved faster, bringing one of his hands from Jeremy’s hip to the base where his lips couldn’t reach. He moved them in sync, faster and faster. Jeremy bucked up once more, unable to control himself, and came.

Jeremy’s dick was still in his mouth and Michael looked around for a moment. There was nothing for him to spit into. The intense saltiness was drying his mouth. He had one option. He swallowed. 

Jeremy sagged back into his chair, a smile reaching his face. He looked at Michael with such adoration that Michael felt his heart might break. Jeremy’s eyes trailed downward and Michael knew he could see his hard-on. 

“I want to help you too.” Jeremy said, sitting up. 

“You- you don’t have to.” Michael stuttered. This was about Jeremy, after all. “I can still jack off.” 

“You shouldn’t have to.” Jeremy said, leaning closer and reaching for his pants. He slowly unzipped Michael’s jeans, pushed them down on his thighs enough that he could have access, and pulled out Michael’s already hard cock. 

Jeremy reached over for a pump of lotion that was lying on the ground and pumped some out into the palm of his hand. He stroked it onto Michael and Michael couldn’t contain his moan. 

_Why? I’m silent whenever my parents are here and I’m doing this myself…_

Michael’s train of thought was cut off as Jeremy started stroking him, starting off slow and gradually increasing to a speed that Michael could never reach on his own. Michael assumed it came with all the practice jacking off Jeremy had. 

“Oh my god,” Michael whispered, his body arching with Jeremy’s motions, “Oh my god.” 

“Yeah?” Jeremy asked teasingly. He twisted his wrist and Michael swore he saw stars. 

“Mmmm, faster.” Michael moaned. Jeremy complied, moving even faster than before. 

Michael came suddenly, thick white come dribbling down Jeremy’s still-moving fist. Jeremy stroked him through the aftershocks, till he was too sensitive to let it continue. 

“That was,” Michael said, when he could talk again, “Wow.” 

“Yeah.” Jeremy said, nodding, “I didn’t know it would be so much better with another person.” 

“Yeah.” Michael agreed. 

There was a moment of silence. Michael used the moment to try and collect his scattered brain cells. 

“So, uh…” Jeremy said, interrupting his thoughts, “Do you want to… do that again sometime?” 

_YES. Yes, oh thank the lord. Oh my god there is nothing more I’ve ever wanted. Yes, yes yes._

“Yeah, sure.” Michael said with a shrug. He hoped to come off as casual and he wasn’t sure how it was reading. “I’m down.” 

“Sweet,” Jeremy said with a grin, “We should clean up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave kudos, I need them to buy a new iPhone (I want those dank moving emojis).


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“So, will you go to the party with me?” Michael asked later that night, when he was dropping Jeremy off at home._   
>  _“Sure,” Jeremy said, “But let’s not get too drunk, okay? And let’s avoid Chloe?”_
> 
> They go to a party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the porn

Michael’s life fell into an easy routine after that: Every week he’d go to school and listen to friends and suffer the bullies, on Saturdays he’d go on a date with Jeremy (followed by one kiss on the lips on the porch, the only times they’d ever kiss), and on Sundays they’d “help each other out” in his basement. 

It was a good routine. Michael liked the routine. He could live with the routine. 

Unfortunately, Michael’s routine was interrupted by Rich at the lunch table on a Wednesday after his and Jeremy’s third week of being “out”. Homecoming was fast approaching and Michael had been zoned out, dreamily looking at Jeremy’s face while he could still get away with it, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He jolted. 

“Headphones! You’re coming to my party Saturday, right?” Rich asked, grinning at him. Michael looked at Jeremy, who didn’t seem to notice and kept up his conversation with Brooke. 

“Uh, did Jeremy say we were going?” He asked, trying to skirt around the issue. Rich frowned. 

“Nah, he’s not real big on parties after, you know, the fire. No one’s really been big on them. BUT! This party is going to change all that, bro! This is gonna be the most killer party, no one is going to be burned or scarred for life,” Rich swore, his voice getting increasingly loud and then dropping at the last moment, “but I need you, Michael.” 

“Me? Why do you need me?” Michael asked, more surprised that Rich called him “Michael” than anything. 

“If you go, then Jeremy will go. If Jeremy goes, Brooke will go. And if Brooke goes, Chloe will go and Jenna will go and and then the whole SCHOOL will go!” Rich’s voice was increasing once more. Jeremy glanced over and Rich dropped a few decibels, “So I need you.” 

“I don’t know…” Michael said, more to his shoes than to Rich. They were blue Converse. Cool, but not as cool as his white shoes had been. He looked back at Rich to avoid thinking about his shoes, only to see the… _weirdest_ puppy-dog begging face he’d ever laid eyes on. 

“Please?” Rich asked. Michael could have sworn that honest-to-god tears were forming in his eyes. _No_. 

“If I say yes, will you stop making that face?” Michael asked.

Rich grinned. 

… 

“Why do you want to go to a party so bad?” Jeremy asked as Michael stripped off his gross gym shirt. It was after school, Michael hadn’t wanted to break the news to Jeremy during math class, math was punishment enough. 

Michael looked at his shirt in disdain. He’d had to wear it the last three periods of the day, smelling gross and looking _unbearably stupid_. When Jenna’d asked, he’d called it a fashion statement. It was not. 

He’d found his gym locker broken into after gym class was over. His shirt was in the middle of the locker room, soaked through with water and some substance that smelled suspiciously like the back alley behind 7/11, which meant that _someone_ had either dunked it in a urinal or… actually peed on it. 

Michael didn’t really want to know which it was. So he’d thrown it in the trash (a little part of him died at that, but he couldn’t exactly put it in his bag to take home) and wore his gym shirt for the rest of the day. 

“It’ll be fun,” Michael said, slipping into a baggier shirt and covering up with his hoodie. He felt way better, felt less like the fabric was clinging to every inch of his body. 

“Since when do you think that parties are fun?” Jeremy asked. Michael shrugged. 

“I dunno. I just wanted to do something different, is all.” He said, “Plus it’s a Saturday, so you can hang out with me _and_ your new friends.” 

“Dude, you know they’re your friends too, right?” 

Michael liked all of Jeremy’s friends, he really did. They were a little weird, but he was a little weird too so he couldn’t exactly blame them. However, he knew that if it weren’t for Jeremy they wouldn’t even talk to him and that… jaded him a little. 

“Yeah, of course.” He said, fiddling with the sleeves of his hoodie, “So, as your boyfriend, what’s yours is mine and what’s mine is yours, right? Does include math homework?” 

“You’re trying to change the subject.” Jeremy said, but he cracked a smile anyways. 

…

“So, will you go to the party with me?” Michael asked later that night, when he was dropping Jeremy off at home. 

“Sure,” Jeremy said, “But let’s not get too drunk, okay? And let’s avoid Chloe?” 

“Sounds like a plan.” Michael said, internally shuddering a little at the prospect of a _drunk_ Chloe Valentine. He liked her, but she was a little… much sometimes. 

“Alright,” Jeremy said, getting out of the car, “Hopefully it’ll be a better party this time.” 

Jeremy leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek “just in case my dad can see”. Michael wasn’t complaining.

“Yeah,” Michael said, watching Jeremy as he walked up the walkway. He hoped he hadn’t made a grave mistake. 

… 

_I’ve made a grave mistake_

Michael was sitting in Rich Goranski’s living room, sitting on his couch with a red solo cup. It was so loud and there were so many people and it was so _close_ and he couldn’t see Jeremy and… 

He needed a minute. This was all too much. Michael got up and made his way to the bathroom, hoping for a moment of privacy. 

When he got there, fighting past a couple making out against the door, he set down the cup and looked at himself in the mirror.

Michael looked like hell. He ran a hand through his styled hair, messing it up a little. It didn’t help his outlook on life. He felt naked without his hoodie, felt like he had no one to talk to once Jeremy walked off to go talk to Jake, felt like his chest was collapsing. 

Being in a bathroom just reminded him of the last time he was at a party, when he’d tried to hide in Jake’s bathroom, when Jeremy had been such a _dick_ and there was a fire—

He took a deep breath. It didn’t help. His breathing became shallow and rushed. 

This was too much, it was too _familiar_. He shouldn’t have gone to the bathroom after all—

There was a knock on the door. Michael took the opportunity to run out, pushing past Chloe, who was the one knocking, and into the main area. People were milling around _too close, too close_. 

Michael spotted Jeremy and stumbled over. His breaths were even more shallow at this point, the pounding in his ears almost overshadowing the sound of the music blasting. Jeremy was laughing. That was good, Jeremy was good. 

Michael had never been good at reading lips, but he could read his own name on his friend’s lips when he grabbed Jeremy’s arm. Jeremy was saying something more, but Michael was trying hard to just focus on his eyes. They were gray, almost blue. They also looked increasingly frantic as Michael backed up, his legs hitting the back of an end table. 

Michael sank to the floor, leaning on the table for support. He felt an arm on his own, pulling him upwards. He was guided through the crowds, no one paying too much attention to him as Jeremy nearly dragged him along. 

He realized he was in a bedroom. It must have been Rich’s parent’s room, there was a double bed and it didn’t smell like a teenage boy room. Michael couldn’t focus. Jeremy was saying something to him, but he couldn’t _focus_.

It was quieter here though. Michael closed his eyes. He was sitting on something? He felt Jeremy’s hands? 

Tears were streaming down his face. When had that started? It needed to stop.

_Mell, you need to get your shit together. You can’t be freaking out like this._

Jeremy. He needed to focus on Jeremy.

“Michael? Michael, you’re okay, right?” Jeremy was asking. Michael took in another breath. 

“Y-yeah.” He said. He opened his eyes. They were on the bed, Jeremy was so close, his eyes wide with concern, “Sorry, I-” 

The doorknob turned. Michael met Jeremy’s eyes, feeling another tear slip down his face. 

“I don’t want anyone to see me like this.” He whispered, fast and low. Jeremy’s eyes widened impossibly. 

“Do you trust me?” He asked. Michael nodded. 

The door opened. Jeremy crashed their lips together, all but forcing his tongue into Michael’s mouth. He pushed Michael into the bed, his full weight laying atop him. Michael nearly pushed him off, but he let his brain process for a moment. Jeremy asked him if he trusted him. 

“Oh! Sorry!” Said a voice from the door. The door didn’t close, “Uh… sorry….” 

Jeremy pulled back from Michael, glaring at the door. Michael buried him face in Jeremy’s chest. 

“Do you mind? We’re kind of in the middle of something.” Jeremy said, his voice rude and scathing. It reminded Michael of when he was trying to be cool. He went back to kissing Michael. The guy left, closing the door behind him. 

Jeremy was still kissing him. Michael tried to move his lips the same way Jeremy did, tried to mirror the way he sucked on his tongue and bit his lip. Jeremy pulled back. 

“Alright—” 

Michael pulled him back down, capturing his lips again. He bit Jeremy’s lip. Jeremy moaned. 

“Michael, what are you—?” Jeremy’s face was so close. Michael pressed a quick kiss to his lips. 

“I just… I want to repay you. You-you took care of me.” 

“Dude, you just had a panic attack.” Jeremy said, but he leaned down to kiss Michael again. 

“I know, I just… I want you, Jeremy.” Michael admitted. Maybe it was the post-panic endorphin high, maybe it was the drinks, maybe it was the gratitude, but Jeremy needed to know. Jeremy blushed. 

“R-really?” Jeremy asked, eyebrows raised. Michael leaned up to to lick a stripe up Jeremy’s neck. Jeremy moaned again, biting his lip. 

“Yeah, dude. You’re hot, I’m gay. What else can I say?” Michael said, trying to casually play it off, “I want you to fuck me.” 

They’d discussed the theory, last Sunday when they were lying in Michael’s basement, post-blowob. Jeremy wasn’t opposed, but Michael figured he had to put his foot down _somewhere_ he couldn’t pretend that this relationship was _real_. 

He should have known that Jeremy would break all his rules, eventually. 

“Really? But I thought—”

“Jeremy. I want you to have sex with me.” Michael said, “I’ve only had two drinks, I can still consent. I _want_ you.” 

Jeremy swallowed hard. Michael braced himself for rejection. Jeremy crashed their lips together again, pushing him further into the bed. 

“Is-” Michael was interrupted by a kiss, “Is that a yes?” 

“Duh.” Jeremy said, “You’re hot too, you know.” 

Michael doubted that. He was too squishy to be attractive, his thighs too fat, his face too round. But he wasn’t going to refute it in the face of getting laid. 

Jeremy’s hand travelled down his front, finding its way to his pants. He unzipped his jeans and stuck his hand down, stroking Michael. 

Michael moaned, moving his hips up into the friction. Jeremy swore under his breath and pulled Michael’s jeans down, struggling to get them and the shoes off. Once Michael was free of clothing from the waist down, he dragged Jeremy back up, pressing a bruising kiss to his lips. 

“Mmm,” Jeremy moaned against his lips. This only prompted Michael to run his hands down his sides, up Jeremy’s shirt, exploring his chest with his hands.

Michael fumbled with Jeremy’s belt, eventually getting it undone. Jeremy abandoned him momentarily, pulling his pants and shoes off. Jeremy came back to him, sliding a hand on Michael’s cock, pumping it to erectness. 

“Jeremy,” Michael moaned, “Do you have lube?” 

“I don’t carry lube around, Michael.” 

Michael was going to comment on Jeremy’s tone, but he saw a little arrow on the dresser, like a checkpoint in a video game. He reluctantly moved away from Jeremy, going to investigate. 

It turned out that Rich had fully stocked the room with condoms and lube. Michael could kiss him. Instead he grabbed two condoms and a packet of lube, going back to kiss his “boyfriend”. 

Jeremy let him slide a condom on him as they kissed. It took a second to get it on, since Michael couldn’t see when he was busy sucking on Jeremy’s tongue, but he got it on. 

Michael bit Jeremy’s lip again. Jeremy moaned. Michael backed up, putting his own condom on and slicking up his fingers. 

“I could do that.” Jeremy offered, “I’ve seen porn.” 

Michael laughed, “Nah. I do this to myself all the time.” 

Jeremy swallowed, “Dude, that’s so hot.”

Michael slid a finger into himself, wriggling it around so he’d be stretched. He added another finger, closing his eyes. 

He opened them when he felt a hand on his own. 

“Really, I wanna try.” Jeremy said. He had lube on his fingers. Michael wasn’t about to waste the lube, so he took his fingers out and allowed Jeremy access. 

Jeremy pressed both fingers in at once. Michael’s hips bucked up, feeling unused to all the stimulation at once, used to a slow buildup. 

“Jeremy,” he moaned, “I want you—”

“Are you ready?” Jeremy asked, sounding concerned. Michael was too turned on to care. 

“Yeah, yes, _please_!” Michael whined. Jeremy nodded, moving to a better position. 

Michael felt something much harder and bigger than fingers at his entrance. Jeremy pushed in and Michael moaned, feeling more filled than he ever had, moving his hips down to meet Jeremy’s little, unintentional thrust. 

“Tell me when to move,” Jeremy said, sounding out of breath from the effort of staying still. Michael rocked his hips experimentally, smiling at the soft moan Jeremy let out. 

“ _Move_ ,” Michael moaned. Jeremy obeyed, thrusting at a slowly increasing pace. Michael rocked his hips, trying to meet Jeremy’s movements, trying to find that _spot_. 

He jolted like electricity had shot down his spine, raising his hips up so Jeremy could hit that spot again, _again_. 

“There!” He gasped, and Jeremy did his best to find it again, panting and thrusting faster. Jeremy moaned, leaning forward to bite into his shoulder. 

_That’s going to leave a mark_. Michael couldn’t bring himself to care. 

He felt close. He was so close. Jeremy was thrusting impossibly fast, but Michael knew he couldn’t keep it up for long. He reached down to jack himself off, angling his hips so Jeremy would hit his prostate _again and again_. 

“Jeremy,” Michael gasped, barely able to form a coherent word, a coherent thought, “Jeremy, please-” 

Jeremy thrust again, hitting him just right _over and over_. Michael moved his hand faster, thrusting into the air. He swore his face was numb with pleasure. It climbed down his spine and spurted from his cock, caught by the condom. 

Michael melted against the sheets, riding out the aftershocks as Jeremy continued to thrust into him, getting faster and faster, until he buried himself deep inside Michael, spasming as he came. 

Jeremy was breathing heavily as he pulled out, laying next to Michael. The sheets were sweaty but Michael couldn’t bring himself to care. 

“That was so good.” Jeremy breathed. Michael didn’t think he could talk yet, so he just nodded vigorously, hoping Jeremy got the message. 

They lay there for a while, just breathing. Eventually, Jeremy got up, pulling off both their condoms to clean them up. He abandoned Michael for a moment to grab a washcloth, but Michael didn’t mind so much. 

Once they were cleaned up enough to rejoin society, Jeremy offered Michael his hand. 

“You wanna get out of here?” 

Michael nodded, “More than anything.” .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave kudos, I need them to bribe a certain Hug Me Elmo into not testifying against me in a court of law.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I need to borrow Michael.”_   
>  _Michael’s head snapped up from where he had been texting under his desk. His dad was at the door, talking to his homeroom teacher. Michael glanced at Chloe, his self-proclaimed “homeroomie”, but she shrugged. She didn’t know either.  
> _
> 
> Michael has a talk with his dad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm updating an hour early. Do not expect too much from me.

After the party, Jeremy could hardly keep his hands to himself when he and Michael were alone. Not that Michael was complaining, it was _good_ , but they were hanging out at his house after school too much lately, someone was going to get suspicious. 

“I mean, they think we’re dating anyways.” Jeremy said when Michael brought his fears up on the drive to school. It was Thursday, it hadn’t even been a full week. Fuck, things were moving so fast. 

“I just… I don’t want my parents to walk in on us, you know?” Michael said, “I mean, I know my dad is always here at school and my mom works late a lot, but…” 

“Dude, if we ever heard them come in you know we’d stop.” Jeremy said, “But if you don’t want me to come over tonight I can go home, I don’t want to, like, force you into anything.” 

“You’re not forcing me into anything!” Michael said, pulling into the school parking lot, _If anything, I’m forcing you_ , “I want to do stuff with you, it’s just… I guess I’m being paranoid.” 

“You probably just need a break. Chill out tonight, okay? Call me if you need me?” Jeremy offered. 

Michael nodded, unbuckling. He hadn’t accomplished what he wanted with this conversation, but then again he wasn’t really sure what he’d wanted to accomplish anyways. He followed Jeremy into the school.

…

“I need to borrow Michael.” 

Michael’s head snapped up from where he had been texting under his desk. His dad was at the door, talking to his homeroom teacher. Michael glanced at Chloe, his self-proclaimed “homeroomie”, but she shrugged. She didn’t know either. 

His dad did not look happy. Michael’s teacher let him go, and his father led him to the teacher’s lounge. 

Michael had spent so much time in that lounge after school that it shouldn’t have been weird, but being there in the middle of the day, when all the teachers cleared out to give them privacy… it was weird. Very weird. 

Michael’s father sat down. Michael sat down across from him. There was a hot pocket wrapper on the table. Mr. Reyes must have been there. Michael felt like there was a brick on his chest, in his stomach, weighing him down with dread. Was his mom okay? Did he find out about the Squip? Is this because he cheated on the chemistry homework? 

“Mr. Raymond just had a talk with me today,” Michael’s father said. He paused. Michael’s heart sank. He knew what this was about. 

The day before, right before everyone was dismissed from gym, one of the assholes (Dustin, Jake’s friend) had raised his hand and asked the teacher, _in front of everyone_ if Michael should change in the girl’s locker room instead. 

_”I’m just worried that he’s looking at us.”_ Dustin had said in that concerned ‘I’m-a-straight-A-white-boy-so-I-can’t-do-anything-wrong’ voice. Michael had felt sick. Mr. Raymond, however, had just shut him down. He said that Michael was a boy, so he was going to change in the boy’s room. 

_”But if he was in the girl’s room, he wouldn’t get off to them.”_ Dustin had replied. Mr. Raymond told Dustin to stay after class and dismissed them. He’d made eye contact with Michael and Michael had thought that his teacher read his eye-telepathy, where he begged him not to tell his dad. 

Apparently, Mr. Raymond was not telepathic. 

“Oh?” Michael asked. His heart was hammering in his chest. He did not want to have this talk. 

“Apparently there’s been a… petition going around your class.” His father said, pulling a folded sheet of paper out of his pocket. He unfolded it and showed it to Michael. 

The paper was titled “The Gay Kid Should Change in the Girl’s Room”. Underneath, they specified that Michael was the titular “Gay Kid”. It was signed by nearly every boy in his grade, even the ones he didn’t have gym with. Michael would have looked harder, would have looked to see who was missing from the list, who might have been an ally to him, but his eyes were too blurry. 

_I’m not going to cry at school. I’m not going to cry at school. I’m not going to cry at school. My dad is here and I am **not going to cry at school**. _

Michael took a deep breath. He felt a little better. 

“Of course, this is textbook bullying and we have the names of all the culprits. The kids at the top of the list have already been talked to and we’ll be speaking to everyone else soon.” Michael’s dad said. 

“No! You can’t!” Michael protested. His dad looked surprised.

“What? _Hijo_ , they’re _bullying_ you. We can’t tolerate that.” His dad said. Michael bit his lip. 

“Dad, they’re gonna think it’s because you’re a teacher! And they’ll be mad they’re in trouble, I can’t- Can’t you just let this blow over? Can’t we just… not do anything about this?” Michael asked. He put on his best ‘let-me-stay-home-sick-from-school’ voice. That always worked on parents, right? 

Michael’s dad looked angrier. Fuck. “Michael, I would do this for _any_ of my students, why wouldn’t I do this for my _son_?” 

“Please dad, just… don’t talk to any more of them, okay? I can deal with this on my own.” Michael begged. His father looked doubtful. “I’ll tell you if I need anything, I promise.” 

“Okay, fine. But if they do _one more thing_ you have to tell me, okay? Deal?” Michael’s dad stuck his hand out to shake. 

_Fuck no._

“Deal.” Michael said, shaking his dad’s hand. They got up to leave, but his father stopped short at the door. 

“Oh, if you wanted to get changed in the faculty bathroom instead, that would be fine. You shouldn’t have to deal with them.” Michael’s dad said. Michael shook his head. 

“I’ll be fine, dad. We just gotta let it blow over.” 

Michael’s father nodded and led him out into the hall. Michael’s stomach sank when he saw _fucking Dustin_ outside the door. He was texting. Maybe that meant that he hadn’t heard what his father had just said. 

…

“Remember to vote for me for Homecoming Queen!” Chloe yelled to Michael as he walked away from her in the hall. He laughed, she was going to win for sure, she was the most popular girl in school and her advertising had been rather… aggressive. 

“Will do!” He called back. 

“Vote for Jake too, I guess!” She yelled, an afterthought. 

“He’d make a great Homecoming Queen!” 

“Shut up, Mell!” 

Michael was still grinning when he got to the locker room for gym. He quickly dropped it when he opened the door. He couldn’t look like he was looking at them, couldn’t look like he was enjoying this. It would get worse. 

He took his clothes to the stall and remembered to lock his locker door this time. No one banged on his door when he changed. When he got out it looked like his locker hadn’t been tampered with. When he walked out to the gym, no one said anything. 

_Huh, maybe my dad was right. Maybe talking to them did solve it._

“We’re going to be running outside today,” Mr. Raymond said, “It’s still nice out, and I don’t want to waste the weather.” 

There were far worse things they could be doing, so Michael wasn’t complaining. He normally walked instead of ran, anyways, so he could just slip in his earbuds and zone out. Maybe gym wouldn’t be so bad today, after all. 

Mr. Raymond started the kids on their track around the school. He led the pack and Michael quickly fell behind. He watched as the class disappeared around the school. If he kept up his pace they should remain just out of sight. Perfect. 

Michael pulled out his earbuds and put them in his ears, blasting his music as he half-jogged. He waved at Jake and Rich, who were hiding (poorly) by the school garden while Rich skipped class (Jake had a free period, Michael remembered). Jake waved back. 

Michael was by the back end of the school, where shipments and trash were, zoning out to his music, when he felt a rough hand on his arm. He was pulled behind the dumpsters, out of view of the world, and shoved to the ground. 

His phone fell, taking his earbuds with it. Michael looked up in the sudden silence to see four of the boys from his class, staring menacingly down at him. Allen, Dustin, Spencer, and Cole. They were the most vocal of the kids that harassed him, so their names must have been at the top of the list. 

Michael tried to get up, but Cole shoved him back down. He sat on the disgusting ground, feeling the concrete dig into his palms. _What the fuck_. 

“We heard that you told your dad about us, Mike.” Spencer said, looming over him. Michael hated when people called him ‘Mike’. “The school called my parents. Both of them.” 

“Shit, you have two parents?” Michael asked, his voice sarcastically surprised, “I never would have thought.” 

_Fuck. I’m an idiot._

“You’re gonna pay for that, fag.” Spencer said, lunging forward. Cole stopped him as Michael brought his arms up to guard his face. After a moment without getting punched, Michael looked at them again. 

“I saw you at the party, _fag_.” Cole said. He’d let Spencer go, “You and your little boyfriend were having a good time, huh? I always knew you’d be the girl.” 

“That was you?” Michael asked, “Wow, you stood there for like, a long time. I was gonna ask if you wanted to join in or something.” 

That _did_ get him punched. Luckily, Michael was guarding his face. Unluckily, that meant that his stomach was free for the punching. The fist connected with his stomach and he felt as though all the air left his body, all at once. He wanted to cry, wanted to throw up, wanted to _run_.

Michael scrambled to his feet, dodging Cole as he tried to push him down again. His back was to the dumpster, there was no escape. He threw a messy punch, which hit Allen in the shoulder, but Dustin grabbed his arms after, holding them behind his back. 

Allen was holding his shoulder. Michael’s fist hurt, so hopefully Allen’s shoulder did too. Spencer punched him twice more in the stomach, and he was reeling up for another, when he was pulled back. 

Michael watched as Rich punched Spencer in the stomach once, before pushing him away. Dustin threw Michael to the ground and he got his arms out just in time to catch himself. Three of the boys were running away. Jake had the last by the collar. 

It was Cole. Jake had his fist drawn back to punch him, but Michael didn’t want that, didn’t want Jake feeling like he had to _defend his honor_ or something. He also didn’t want any of them to look like the victim, didn’t want them to have cuts or bruises on their faces. Not when he wasn’t the one to put them there. This was his fight. 

“Jake, let him go.” Michael wheezed out. Rich knelt beside him, his hand on his back. Michael coughed, trying to get air back in his lungs. Jake let him go. 

“What the fuck is going on, Headphones?” Rich asked. 

“I don’t know. Gym sucks.” Michael mumbled, not wanting to get into it. Rich and Jake looked at each other significantly. Michael didn’t know what they were thinking about, too focused on trying to _breathe_. 

“Bro, you should have told me gym sucked. I’d have gone to class.” Rich said, “Dude, I’m your friend. We gotta stick together.” 

Michael nodded, even though he wasn’t sure how much of Rich’s statement was pity. He couldn’t exactly talk well at the moment anyways. 

“What do you have after this?” Jake asked. 

“Free hour.” Michael wheezed. 

“Go home. I’ll tell Mr. Raymond you threw up or something.” Jake said. “Rich’ll grab Jeremy.”

“I don’t—” Michael protested, but Rich was already gone. “Okay.” 

“Want me to help you to your car?” Jake asked. Michael shook his head. He paused.

“Can you, uh, actually get my shit from my locker for me? I don’t… I don’t really want to go to the locker room right now.” 

“Yeah dude, just give me your combo.” Jake said, unquestioning. That was what Michael liked best about Jake, he didn’t ask much. 

Michael struggled to his feet and looked down. He was bleeding where he’d been thrown to the ground, his knees and palms skinned. There were bits of gravel lodged in his palms. He looked at Jake with desperation in his eyes, he did _not_ want to go to the nurse. 

“Jeremy can drive, right?” Jake asked. Michael nodded. “Good, he can drive you home.”

Michael gave Jake the combination for his locker, then paused. He swallowed hard, hoping to choke down his sadness, his anger, his anxiety. 

“Don’t… don’t tell my dad, okay?” He said quietly. Jake frowned. 

“Why would I tell your dad? We can take care of this ourselves.” Jake said, before leaving to go get Michael’s stuff. 

Michael collected his phone from the ground and sent a quick text to Jake and Rich, telling them he’d be in his car, before slowly making his way to the student parking lot.

He got into his car (which he’d named Tom, Tom Cruiser) and sighed, resting his head against the headrest and holding his stomach.

“Tom, why does this keep happening to me?” He asked his car. The car was not on so it had no way to respond. “Last year was shitty and now this? I thought senior year was supposed to be chill.” 

He closed his eyes hoping that he’d devolve so that his object permanence would go away and he could forget about everything. It wasn’t working out well, but he was willing to give it a nice, long try when he heard his passenger seat door open.

He whipped around, eyes wide. Was it those assholes again, now that he was alone? 

It was Jeremy. He was holding Michael’s backpack. He also looked pissed, but that was beside the point. 

“Sorry to drag you out of class, bro.” Michael said. It hurt to talk, hurt to breathe too much. “But can you drive me home?”

“Yeah, switch with me.” Jeremy said, and _oh duh_ , Michael was sitting in the driver seat. Michael unbuckled and limped around the car. He supposed that he was being overdramatic, if he didn’t want Jeremy to pity him he _could_ have stood up straight, but it hurt _a lot_ now that the adrenaline was wearing off. 

Michael struggled to buckle, but he ignored Jeremy’s hovering hand. He could do this. He got blood on the seatbelt, but he did it. It was a victory. 

Jeremy adjusted his seat and started the car. Normally one of them would have given the other shit about the height difference, but Jeremy was silent so Michael kept his mouth shut. He didn’t know what his best friend was thinking, couldn’t read his face. 

The drive was short and quiet. Michael’s radio was tuned to the local alternative station, and that played quietly in the background, soothing Michael’s nerves. Music had the habit of making things better. 

They pulled into Michael’s driveway and as soon as the car was in park Jeremy leaned over to click the button on Michael’s seatbelt. Michael thought that this was fair, Tom Cruiser didn’t need _more_ blood on him, and Jeremy was the seat’s usual inhabitant. 

“Thanks dude,” Michael said, starting to get up. He had no idea how Jeremy was going to get home, short of walking. He could offer his car. His parents would kill him. “Uh--”

Jeremy had already turned the car off though, and was walking to the door. Michael scrambled behind him, following him into his own house. Jeremy was walking purposefully, his back straight, shoulders back. He looked cool, even in the relaxed area of Michael’s house. It was unnerving. Jeremy grabbed a roll of paper towel. 

Michael followed Jeremy down to the basement. Jeremy shoved him down to sit on the bed, took one of his hands, and started to soak up the blood. It had mostly stopped bleeding, but it still looked mildly gruesome. 

“Jeremy, what--” Michael started. Jeremy looked up at him, his gaze intense and focused. Michael shrank back, it was too much like last year, when Michael felt _lucky_ when Jeremy glanced his direction. 

Jeremy’s gaze softened at that. He shook his head a little. 

“Sorry,” he said, looking truly apologetic, “I, uh. I was talking to the Squip. I should have vocalized that. That must have been super weird.” 

_You have no idea._

“It was fine.” Michael said, “But, uh. What are you doing?” 

“Helping you?” Jeremy asked, his voice unsure. It put Michael at ease. “You were still bleeding, so…” 

“Yeah, but like. You don’t have to, I’m… I’m fine.” Michael said, looking at the gravel in his hand rather than at Jeremy. Jeremy took that hand, pressing paper towel to it. 

“You’re _not_ fine, Michael. What the fuck is going on? Why were four dudes beating you up by the dumpsters?” Jeremy asked, trying to gently pick out the gravel. Michael winced, he was making it worse. Jeremy stopped and turned his attention to Michael’s knees, soaking up the blood there. 

“I, uh. I said something dumb to them. I should have just kept my mouth shut, but you know me!” Michael said, trying to force cheerfulness past his bitter tone. He was moderately successful. “I never was good at that.” 

Jeremy finished soaking up the blood on Michael’s knees. There was still dried blood that had dripped down his legs, but it was a good start. He lifted Michael’s shirt and looked at the purpling skin where he’d been punched. He hummed. 

“It was too low to hit your ribs. The Squip says that your organs should be fine.” Jeremy said. He looked up at Michael, his face blank again. He frowned and looked more like himself, “It’s the cuts we should be worried about. Don’t want them to get infected.” 

“Whatever you say, man.” Michael said, allowing Jeremy to hold his hands, palms up, as he looked at the tiny rocks embedded in his skin. 

“Why were you talking to those assholes though? I didn’t think you really went out of your way to socialize during gym.” Jeremy asked. He was still looking at Michael’s hands. They stung. Michael wished Jeremy would leave so he could soak them in hydrogen peroxide and go to sleep or something. 

“Wow, possessive much?” Michael joked. Jeremy looked up at him, ‘ _really?_ ’ written all over his face. Michael sighed, “They’ve… they’re just assholes, okay? And I said something rude, so they had to take out their toxic hypermasculinity on me.” 

“I’m gonna get the full story out of you, Mell. But I need to get your first aid kit.” Jeremy swore. Michael hummed. The first aid kit, situated in his desk, had been a gift from Jeremy’s mom the first time they tried to jump out of a tree and onto a trampoline. It had gotten the two of them through some rough times. 

Jeremy, however, was not going to the desk. He was going to the closet. Michael didn’t realize till too late, didn’t notice until Jeremy had already opened the door and was looking for the kit where it used to be, where the _shoes_ were. 

“Uh, it’s in the desk!” Michael said, but it was too late. Jeremy resurfaced from the closet, shoes in hand. 

“Michael, why do your favorite shoes say ‘faggot’ on them?” He asked. His voice was calm. It scared Michael. Jeremy of two years ago would have been freaking out. He was never sure of this Jeremy’s reactions. 

“No comment?” Michael tried. Jeremy glared at him, “It was the guys from the gym class. I think. I wasn’t, uh, there. When they did that.” 

There was a tense moment of silence. Michael swallowed. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jeremy asked. Well, demanded, really. Michael felt like he was shivering. He couldn’t meet Jeremy’s eyes. 

“It’s not a big deal. They’re just shoes.” He said. Jeremy made a weird choked noise of outrage.

“ _Just shoes_? Michael, this is a hate crime!” Jeremy shook the shoes for effect. Michael hunched his shoulders up. It felt like he was getting yelled at. Why was he getting yelled at? He felt tears well up in his eyes, brought about by the pain, the weird mix of sadness-anger-guilt in his chest, and just the sheer fact of being yelled at. 

“I’m sorry, okay! I didn’t ask for this!” Michael yelled back, “I wish I could just… go back. I wish no one knew I was gay, I wish I’d never done this!” 

“Michael, you have to tell your dad!” Jeremy countered, “You can’t just let them do this!” 

“Fucking watch me!” Michael yelled defiant, “Just leave it alone, man! I Just want this to blow over.” 

“This--fuck. This isn’t something that just blows over, Micah.” Jeremy said. He sounded angry. Why was he angry, “Don’t be stupid, just tell your dad!” 

Michael felt like he’d injected ice water into his heart. He hated being called stupid, hated that Jeremy was trying to use his pet name from when they were kids against him. Jeremy was close now, had moved closer. His hand was on Michael’s shoulder and Michael was looking up at him, yelling. 

“I’m not telling my dad! You can’t fucking make me--” 

Jeremy crashed his mouth into Michael’s, moving their lips together. He bit Michael’s lower lip. Michael shoved him away.

“What the fuck.” Michael said, more of a statement than a question. Jeremy’s eyes were wide. 

“Michael, I--” 

“Get out of my house.” Michael said. Jeremy tried to take a step forward. Michael put his arm up, warding his friend off, “I mean it. Get out.” 

“O-okay.” Jeremy stuttered, slowly moving to the stairs. He left. 

Once he heard the front door close overhead, Michael let out a choked sob. 

_What the fuck is my life?_

…

Later that night, after Michael picked gravel out of his hands with his mom’s tweezers and fabricated a story for his parents about tripping over himself in gym class, he lay in bed, wide awake, thinking about the kiss. 

What the fuck had Jeremy been doing, kissing him in the middle of an argument? Did he know about his crush? Was he trying to use it against him? Did he think Michael was just like… a sex object or something? What the fuck? 

His phone buzzed. Michael looked at it. It was a text from Jeremy. 

I’m sorry. 

Michael sighed, letting the phone fall from his hand onto his chest. He put on his headphones and shoved his pillow in his face, screaming into it. Maybe if he screamed enough he’d suffocate. 

He had no such luck. He did, however, hear a knock on the door. 

“It’s unlocked!” He called. His mom came down the stairs. 

“Are you feeling alright, _anak_?” She asked, brushing his hair back with her fingers. He closed his eyes. 

“Yeah, mom. I’m okay.” He said, feeling guilty for lying to his mom. She sighed. 

“You worry me, child. Constantly.” She said, continuing to pet his hair. 

“I know.” He said, sounding miserable even to himself. She paused. 

“But I’m proud of you, you know that right, Michael? I’m so proud of you.”

Michael felt tears welling up in his eyes again. He’d thought he’d used up his allotted tears for the day, but he must have been mistaken. 

“Thanks, mom.” He said quietly, rather than coming up with some stupid comeback. He was too tired for that now. 

“I know that your father and I didn’t handle you ‘coming out’ well, but we want you to know that we love you and support you. And I want you to know that I know you’ve been having a hard time, and I am proud.” She said, petting his hair once more before she got up, “I love you, _dayong_.” 

“I love you too, mom.” He said, watching as she walked up the stairs. She turned the light off and closed his door. Michael pulled his covers tight around himself, hoping that tomorrow would be better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave kudos, I need them to pay the fine for bribing a witness


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“My dad’s going to New York for a business meeting Sunday and they’re paying for a hotel so he said we could come with if we wanted. Like, he knows how much you love pools.” Jeremy said. He sounded nervous, which was weird. They’d gone on trips together before._
> 
> Michael and Jeremy have a long weekend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry this is late but I wrote [this holiday fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13152684) with SpinalBaby instead. Please check it out! It's rad!

“Michael, I’m sorry.” Jeremy said when Michael picked him up for school the next day. Michael gripped the steering wheel harder. His hands were wrapped up, but the pressure still stung a little. 

“It’s fine.” He said, despite the fact that it was _not_ fine. “I was overreacting.” 

“No, that was really shitty of me. I just, uh… I thought maybe then you’d be quiet and listen to me.” Jeremy said awkwardly, “I was being stupid.” 

Michael knew that this was an opening where he could talk about feelings or something. He could confess everything, he could fess up to the fact that he had a wicked huge crush on Jeremy, that he _liked_ how he kissed him, how he was hurt because it felt like Jeremy was using him.

“I mean, when aren’t you?” Michael joked, bumping his friend with his shoulder. Jeremy laughed a little, sounding relieved, “It’s really fine, I was just-- upset. About everything.” 

“No wonder,” Jeremy said, frowning, “Those guys are assholes.” 

“At least we’ve got a long weekend to look forward to.” Michael said. 

The teachers were all being sent on some training retreat thing, which meant that his dad would be out of the house until Tuesday night and he wouldn’t have school until Wednesday. Michael’s whole life was ready for that. 

“Yeah, about that…” Jeremy said, gaining Michael’s attention, “I wanted to ask you something.” 

“Yeah?” 

“My dad’s going to New York for a business meeting Sunday and they’re paying for a hotel so he said we could come with if we wanted. Like, he knows how much you love pools.” Jeremy said. He sounded nervous, which was weird. They’d gone on trips together before. 

Michael debated. He could finally have a weekend _alone_ if he refused, free of his parents and Jeremy. Quiet. Nice. But then again, he did love pools and he hated to disappoint, so… 

“Sure, I’ll tell my parents.” He said. Jeremy grinned. Worth it. 

“It’ll be so great! The company is paying for it so we can get room service and sit in the jacuzzi until we turn into raisins and, you know, maybe do some other stuff when my dad’s gone.” Jeremy rambled, “Oh, but I’m gonna have lunch with Christine one of the days, if that’s okay?” 

“Yeah dude,” Michael said, wondering why Jeremy would ask. 

“It’s gonna be rad.” Jeremy sighed. Michael hoped he was right. 

… 

School breezed by that day (even gym, now that Rich was there to ward off any intended attackers) and so did Michael’s lazy Saturday. When Sunday finally rolled around, Michael felt ready to face anything. 

The car ride with Jeremy and his father wasn’t even awkward, which was a small miracle. Check in was fine. Everything was turning out alright. 

As soon as they checked in, Michael flopped on the bed. Hotel beds were the best. 

“You guys are alright unsupervised, right?” Mr. Heere asked, “I don’t have to worry about any noise complaints, right?” 

“Dad!” Jeremy gasped, scandalized. 

“We’ll be fine, Mr. Heere!” Michael said, trying to cover his embarrassment. Jeremy’s dad laughed and headed for the door. 

Once the door was closed behind him, Michael turned to Jeremy. 

“You’re dad’s gone, know what that means?” He asked. Jeremy blushed. 

“What?” 

“Pool time!” Michael cheered. Jeremy laughed. 

“Not so fast, I gotta go meet Christine. You sure you’ll be okay alone for a while?” Jeremy asked, pulling his coat back on from where he’d momentarily discarded it. 

“Dude, I’m not five.” Michael groaned, “But I’m gonna hit up that pool while you’re gone.” 

“I wouldn’t expect any less.” 

… 

Michael floated around the pool for a while, content but bored. It was fun, but not as fun as it would have been with his bestest bro. There were water guns in the pool that he looked longingly at. He got out pretty quickly, not wanting to miss Jeremy coming back. Plus the parents with children were looking at him weird. Maybe that was a figment of his imagination, or maybe it was because of how he had been looking at the water guns, but either way he wanted to go back to the room. 

Once in the room, he showered and flopped on the bed in his boxers, face in the pillows. For a moment he felt utterly relaxed. 

Then, the relaxation was replaced by his thoughts. It was too quiet in the room. When would Jeremy be back? Why do hotels have bibles in the dresser? 

_Michael, for once in your life you need to relax._

He sighed and burrowed his face further into the pillows. Yes. Relaxation. 

_What am I doing with my life?_

Michael had had this thought often lately. It was a valid thought, his life was a wreck. He felt increasingly bad about making Jeremy go out with him, and he was feeling increasingly attached and possessive. Sometimes, if he let himself zone out, he could imagine that they were dating for real. 

When Jeremy would hold his hand, when he’d kiss him goodbye, even that kiss during their fight… 

_I should surprise Jeremy_. 

Michael’s eyes shot open at the thought. It was brilliant. He could lay there all sexy or whatever, waiting for Jeremy so they could have, like, a ton of sex. That would be a good way to show his gratitude for everything Jeremy was doing for him, Jeremy _loved_ sex. 

Michael looked around, finding his suitcase on the ground. He dug out the lube and condoms, putting them on the bed and then trying to find a “sexy” position. He felt stupid. He couldn’t keep this up forever. How could he find out when Jeremy would be back? 

_If I text him, he’ll know something is up…_

“The window.” Michael said, a revelation. There was only one entrance to the hotel and they had a window overlooking it. 

He rushed to the window, gazing out. They were on a relatively low floor, so he could see most of the people. 

Some time passed, probably about ten minutes. Michael didn’t mind, people watching in New York City was fun. Finally, Jeremy and Christine appeared. They paused under the building, talking. 

“Hurry up,” Michael whined. He wasn’t close enough to read their lips, but he was definitely close enough to see Christine laugh. 

Then, without warning, Christine leaned up and kissed Jeremy. Not just a peck on the lips, it was a long, slow kiss. Jeremy, whose hands had initially gone up in surprise, rested his hands on her hips. 

Michael felt pain in his chest. His heart sank all the way to his stomach and then sank some more. He could have dissolved into the floor. 

They parted. Jeremy walked towards the building. Michael broke out of his trance and scrambled for his suitcase, where he’d stowed his hoodie. He frantically pulled it on, not wanting to be almost naked when Jeremy came in, not wanting to be so _vulnerable_. 

He’d just kicked the condoms and lube under the bed, when Jeremy walked in. Michael whirled on him, crossing his arms. He was so upset, he didn’t want to cry, so that meant he had to get _mad_. 

“Michael?” Jeremy asked, grinning, “Ready for the pool?” 

“No, _Jeremy_. What the fuck was that?” Michael asked, gesturing to the window. He knew he was being unreasonable, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He wanted Jeremy to feel just an _ounce_ of what he felt now. 

“What was what?” Jeremy asked, his smile falling. Michael glared at him. 

“You kissed Christine! In front of everyone!” 

“Dude, it’s fine. We’re in a different city, no one saw.” Jeremy said, trying to diffuse the situation. Michael did not want to be diffused. 

“No one saw? I saw!” Michael said, raising his voice, “You said you wouldn’t do this until after Homecoming!” 

Jeremy stepped closer to him. Michael held his ground. 

“Well, I’m not the one who lied to his parents and said we were dating!” 

Michael stepped closer to Jeremy, hoping he’d back up. Jeremy stood still. They were close now, close enough that Michael could reach out and grab him. 

“If I knew you couldn’t keep it in your pants for five minutes, I wouldn’t have said I was dating you!” 

“Wow, really? It was just a kiss!” 

“It was _not_ \--” Michael protested, but his words were cut off by Jeremy grabbing him by the shoulders, bringing him close and crashing their lips together. 

Michael thought about pushing him away again. Instead he threaded his hands through Jeremy’s hair, forcing the taller boy down, so their mouths were pressed together more firmly. He bit Jeremy’s bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth. Jeremy moaned. 

Michael felt himself backed up into the armchair. It hit the backs of his knees and he sat involuntarily, bringing Jeremy down with him, so that Jeremy was straddling him. 

Jeremy kissed down his neck, leaving bites where he went. Michael moaned. 

“I can’t- I can’t fucking believe you.” Michael gasped out while Jeremy worked on a hickey on his neck. Jeremy was grinding down on him and he bucked up despite himself. 

“Shut up.” Jeremy said, backing up enough to unzip Michael’s hoodie. When he saw that Michael wasn’t wearing anything under it, he looked up at him with surprise. 

“Make me.” Michael said, daring. Jeremy leaned back down, capturing his lips in another bruising kiss. Too soon, he backed up. Michael tried to follow his mouth, but Jeremy was keeping him down with his wait. 

“Eager?” Jeremy asked, grinning as he rubbed against him again. Michael could feel Jeremy growing in his pants. He swallowed. 

“You can’t distract me, Heere. I’m still fucking pissed at you.” He said, his voice shaking when Jeremy moved _just right_. 

“I can’t believe you’re so upset about this. We’re not even really dating, man.” Jeremy said, “No one we know saw that.” 

Michael felt ice water in his veins when Jeremy said “ _We’re not even really dating_ ”. He pulled Jeremy down for another kiss, breaking apart just enough so that their lips ghosted over each other when he spoke. 

“Fuck you.” 

“Yeah.” Jeremy said, his voice full of desire. Michael’s eyes snapped up to meet Jeremy’s. Jeremy nodded, pulling Michael up so that they stumbled to the bed, Jeremy falling on it this time with Michael over him. 

Michael leaned down, kissing Jeremy again. He was biting his lip hard enough that he could faintly taste blood, but Jeremy wasn’t complaining. 

He grabbed Jeremy’s shirt and wriggled it off him, before leaning down to leave a hickey on his chest. Jeremy moaned, arching up into him and he trailed his hands down his sides, scratching him. Jeremy shivered. 

“Hurry up,” Jeremy whined. Michael paused. They’d never done this, never had him on top, “Michael?” 

All Michael could hear was fucking Cole in his mind _”I always knew you’d be the girl.”_ He leaned over the side of the bed for the lube and condoms, while Jeremy took off his pants. He stripped off his boxers and rolled condoms on both of them. They were both so hard--

Michael took in Jeremy, looking obscene stretched out on the bed, his hair all messed up, his eyes wide, a trail of bites down his neck. _He’s mine_. 

Michael leaned down again and left another hickey on him, right over his heart. Jeremy moaned and bucked up into him again. Michael made sure to make the mark _dark_. He let his hand trail down, wrapping around Jeremy. He pulled lazily, but Jeremy moaned like it was the best thing in the world. 

When he was satisfied with the hickey, Michael grabbed the bottle of lube and coated his fingers. He put one in, gently. Jeremy tensed around him, but Michael slowly worked it in, wiggling it around so Jeremy could get used to it. 

“You- mm, you still mad?” Jeremy gasped. Michael, from his position between Jeremy’s legs, leaned down and bit his thigh. Jeremy yelped, “I’ll take that as a yes.” 

Michael continued that way, adding another finger gently, and leaving rough hickies and bites on Jeremy’s thighs and stomach. When he added the third finger he started searching until--

“Michael! Right there!” Jeremy gasped, moving his hips as if he was trying to get Michael to touch it again. Michael brushed over the bundle of nerves once more and Jeremy keened. 

He pulled his fingers out, while Jeremy made a disappointed noise, and put some lube on his cock, before lining up at Jeremy’s entrance. He slowly pushed in, giving Jeremy plenty of time to adjust. 

Jeremy’s eyes screwed shut. Michael pushed all the way in and waited. Eventually, Jeremy opened his eyes. Michael gave a tiny, experimental thrust. Jeremy squeaked. 

“I thought you said you were going to fuck me.” Jeremy said, his eyes blazing like they’d been the night at Rich’s party. Challenging. Michael raised an eyebrow. 

“You want me to fuck you? Huh?” He asked, punctuating his sentences with rough thrusts. Jeremy moaned. 

“Yeah, yeah like that. Yes!” He sighed, bucking his hips in time, “Don’t stop!” 

Michael wasn’t planning on it. He thrust in deep, burying himself as far as he could inside Jeremy with every motion. He’d never felt anything like this, this tight close heat. He knew he wasn’t going to last long. 

He grabbed Jeremy’s dick again, pumping it with every thrust. Now if he could just find--

“Oh my god! Right there! Don’t stop, don’t stop!” Jeremy moaned, moving his hips to help. His hands scrambled against Michael’s back, and he could feel the scratches down his shoulder, up his back.

“Bossy,” Michael said shakily, thrusting faster. Jeremy couldn’t even respond, his head thrown back, bucking his hips. 

“Oh my god, yes, yes, yes!” Jeremy gasped, “I’m- I’m close!” 

Michael picked up the pace, knowing he’d be sore in the morning. His wrist already hurt from jacking Jeremy off, but he moved faster, praying that Jeremy would come soon, because _Michael_ was about to. 

“Michael, oh my god,” Jeremy moaned, tensing around him. Michael groaned, thrusting faster. Jeremy came, saying something incoherent, followed by, “I love you.” 

“Michael couldn’t respond, too busy riding out his own orgasm, burying himself deep inside Jeremy. He panted, gasping for air. 

“You- you do?” Michael asked, still inside Jeremy, his voice honest and full of hope. Jeremy looked panicked. 

“Uh- um. Yeah! You’re my best friend, bro.” He said, moving so that Michael had to pull out of him, “Of-of course I love you.” 

“Oh.” Michael said, trying to mask his disappointment, “I, uh… I love you too…. Bro.” 

“I’m gonna just… take a shower.” Jeremy said, getting up. 

“Oh! Yeah, uh… yeah. Sounds good. I’ll be here.” 

Jeremy walked into the bathroom and shut the door. The water turned on. Michael grabbed a pillow and screamed into it. 

“I can’t do this.” Michael whispered, more to himself than anything, “I can’t do this anymore.” 

He got up, pulling clothes on. He looked over at the hotel mirror, over one of those weird random sinks. Jeremy left a hickey too high to be covered by his hoodie. Michael bit his lip, eyes watering up. How the fuck was he going to explain that at school? Why didn’t Jeremy ever _think_ before he did things? 

He willed the tears back, swallowing hard and packing up his bag. He needed to leave, needed to go home where he could sit in his basement and be _himself_ for an hour. Where he wasn’t lying to anyone. 

“Michael?” Jeremy asked. Michael whipped around. He hadn’t heard the water shut off. Jeremy was standing there in a towel, dripping wet. Michael could see all the marks he’d left, all easily concealed, “What are you doing?” 

“I’m- I’m, uh, gonna take the bus home. I just got a text from my mom, she- uh… my grandma is back in town and I have to go visit her.” Michael lied, zipping his bag. 

“Oh, uh… have fun?” Jeremy asked, “Sorry you have to go so soon.” 

“Yeah, uh, me too!” Michael said, walking to the door, “See you at school, man.” 

“Yeah,” Jeremy said, waving, “See you.” 

…

Michael holed himself in his room for the next two days, largely ignoring everything in the world. On Tuesday, however, he broke his hibernation and went to Jeremy’s house. 

Jeremy had come back from New York that morning, but his dad still had to go to work, so he’d be alone. It was perfect. 

He knocked on the door, nerves pooling in his stomach. He didn’t want to do this. He needed to do this. 

“Michael?” Jeremy asked, opening the door. 

“Hey,” Michael said, offering him a weak smile, “Can I come in?” 

“Of course,” Jeremy said, letting him in, “What’s up?” 

Michael swallowed. It was hard to do this with Jeremy in front of him, despite how many times he’d practiced on the way over. _I have to do this_. 

“I know that, uh… we said we’d ‘go out’ until Homecoming, but… I think we need to break up.” Michael said, more to his feet than to Jeremy, “Thanks for helping me come out to my parents, you’re the best.” 

“Oh, um… wh- uh… okay.” Jeremy stuttered, “I-okay.” 

“Sorry that it’s gonna disappoint your dad,” Michael said, “I know he wanted us to go together.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, he did.” Jeremy said, looking upset. Why was he so upset? “I, um… I want- uh… are you going to be okay? With your parents?” 

“I’ll live.” Michael said, offering him a small smile, “So, back to friends?” 

He offered his hand, ready to do their handshake. Jeremy kissed his cheek instead. 

“Last one.” He said, giving him a small smile, “Yeah, friends.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave kudos, the Hug Me Elmo is extorting me for more bribes.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _His Emo Time was interrupted by a teacher, standing in front of him._   
>  _“Hijo, what are you doing on the ground?” Michael’s father asked, when he saw Michael sitting against the lockers. Michael looked up, sliding his headphones down._
> 
> First day back to school after the breakup and Michael's life is already in ruins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second to last chapter!

Michael spent that last day of his weekend moodily sitting in his room, listening to music. He told his parents about the break up with as few details as possible and his mother, who had just been teasing him for his hickey a day earlier, had allowed him to sulk in his room all day and night. 

Monday morning Michael didn’t pick Jeremy up from his house, didn’t even think about it until he was at school and he got the “where are you” text from his friend, and by then it was too late. Jeremy had to get a last second ride from his dad, and it just kicked off the terrible day. 

“I can’t believe you forgot your boyfriend.” Jenna said to Michael in class, joking, “Aren’t you two attached at the hip?” 

“Uh-” Michael said, before taking a moment to collect himself, swallowing hard. He could do this, “He’s, um, not my boyfriend. Anymore.”

“What?” Jenna asked, looking up from her phone. Michael looked at the floor and nodded, “Oh my god, Michael I’m sorry. What happened?” 

“I just-” Michael had thought of an excuse, but he couldn’t call it to mind. He was blanking hard, so his mouth involuntarily spilled the truth, “I thought that it was… I don’t know, hurting our friendship? And I can’t- I can’t deal with losing him again, so… I just. I wanted to end it before we got hurt.” 

“Oh my god. Michael, you wouldn’t _lose_ him, he _loves_ you!” Jenna said, sounding upset. 

Michael frowned. He fiddled with his hoodie , which he had arranged carefully so that the material was up high enough to cover his hickey. He wouldn’t want Jenna talking about that right now. 

“I know he loves me, but like… it feels like he only loves me like a friend and- I just wanted something more than that, you know? I don’t want to force him into this.” Michael said. Jenna put her phone down. 

“Michael—” she began, her voice serious. She was interrupted by the teacher beginning class, “After class.” 

Michael nodded, though he had no intention of talking to her, or _anyone_ about this whole thing. He just wanted it to blow over, it would all be okay if people would just leave it alone. 

…

People did not leave it alone. 

Somehow, Michael ended up with Chloe and Jenna in the divorce, while Jake and Rich were firmly on Jeremy’s side. Brooke was _”Staying out of it”_ because she was their only friend with an ounce of sense. 

Michael honestly had no idea how Chloe and Jenna were “taking his side” anyways. In his opinion there was no side to take, it was just _over_. He didn’t try to talk to them to figure out why though, in fact he didn’t tell to talk to anyone. 

Michael knew that Jeremy tried to talk to Rich and Jake though, but he also knew that the two of them were stubborn. They thought that he ditched Jeremy that morning on purpose, to be petty, and they knew that Michael was the one who broke up with Jeremy, so they might even have been justified in their misguided belief.

At lunch, Rich glared at him from the group’s designated lunch table. Michael swallowed hard. _I can’t deal with this_. He dumped his tray in the trash, opting to hide out in the halls for an hour. It felt like last year all over again, but _worse_ somehow, because it was his fault.

His Emo Time was interrupted by a teacher, standing in front of him.

“ _Hijo_ , what are you doing on the ground?” Michael’s father asked, when he saw Michael sitting against the lockers. Michael looked up, sliding his headphones down. 

“I, uh, I just don’t want to be in the lunchroom.” Michael admitted, “I’ll go back if you want me to.” 

Michael’s father hummed and slid to the floor next to him, sitting against the locker with him, “Teacher’s kid should get _some_ perks, huh? What’s wrong?” 

Michael took a deep breath and let it out. _Where do I even fucking begin?_

“I just… Jeremy’s in there and they’re all _his_ friends, so…” Michael trailed off, not looking at his dad, “It’ll all be okay, we’re all still friends, but it’s a little too soon right now.” 

He looked at his dad. His dad nodded. “You want to get off the disgusting floor and eat in the Teacher’s Lounge?” 

Michael gasped, offended, “These floors are great, Mr. Greg cleans them every night!” 

“If only.” His father grumbled. He looked at Michael expectantly. Michael sighed. 

“Nah. I’ll be fine here.” 

Michael’s father stood up, dusting off his pants, “I’m going to go where there are tables and no students. If you need me, I’ll be in the Lounge.” 

“Okay dad, thanks.” Michael said. His father ruffled his hair and walked away. Michael sighed, pulling his headphones back up. 

_Just have to get through today_. 

…

Apparently Rich actually hated Michael though, because when gym rolled around he was nowhere to be found. 

The kids in Michael’s class eyed him as he went to the stall to change (something he still did despite Rich’s presence). Once there, he took off his shirt and caught a glimpse of his stomach. The bruises from the boys’ fists were still there, though yellow. He shuddered and pulled his gym shirt on quickly. 

He glanced at himself in the mirror as he left the stall. Jeremy’s hickey was still deep purple on his neck, and now he no longer had his headphones and hoodie to cover it up. He cursed the gym class dress code and steeled himself to walk out. Maybe Rich would be there after all, maybe he was just late. 

Michael held on hope until roll call. Rich still wasn’t there. Michael felt like the world was staring at the mark on his neck, felt like if any more people looked at it, they might burn a hole in his neck, killing him instantly. He kind of hoped that would happen. 

“We’re going to be playing softball today,” Mr. Raymond announced, “It’s so nice, so we’re gonna go outside.” 

Michael swallowed hard, remembering the week before, and resolved to stick around the group of students, to try not to be caught alone again. 

Softball went horribly. Michael was never good at any kind of gym class (except that one time that the teacher in middle school brought in Dance Dance Revolution) so naturally he sucked. The team he was playing for blamed him for every out he got, and the other team was merciless when they threw the balls at him. 

By the end of it, Michael was miserable. He was sore where the softball had hit his still-bruised skin and he just wanted to get changed and _leave_. Fuck, he kind of wanted to drop out or something, anything. 

Mr. Raymond kept Michael back on the field, saying he wanted to talk to him and sending the rest of the class ahead. He even gave someone the equipment and the key to the supply room so he wouldn’t have to put away the bats and balls. Michael sighed, of course he wouldn’t just be allowed to leave, of course it wouldn’t be that easy.

“Michael, I noticed some of the guys are giving you a hard time.” Mr. Raymond said, “Do you need me to write them up?” 

Michael kind of wished that Mr. Raymond would write them up on his own, so Michael wouldn’t have to make that decision, wouldn’t have to be held accountable for it. He shook his head. 

“They’re just assholes,” Michael said, “I can deal with it.” 

Mr. Raymond nodded, not even scolding him for swearing. A perk of being the teacher’s kid. 

“Well, if you ever need to talk to an adult who’s not your dad, I’m here, okay? Bullying is a serious issue.” Mr. Raymond said, clapping him on the shoulder. 

It felt so juvenile when Mr. Raymond said it like that. Like he was eight years old and someone pushed him down. He knew that Mr. Raymond didn’t mean it like that, but whatever. 

“Yeah, thanks Mr. Raymond.” Michael said. 

“I’ve got to head to my car, but if you need a hall pass or anything have the teacher page me.” Mr. Raymond said. Michael shrugged. 

“I have a free period, so I’ll be fine.” 

Mr. Raymond nodded and walked towards the faculty parking lot. Michael started his walk back to the school. Hopefully by the time he got back all the other kids would be gone, he could change in peace. 

He was about halfway there, under the windows of the math building, when he noticed them. It was Spencer, Allen, and Dustin. They must have been waiting for him, they were right ahead of him. 

“Hey faggot,” one of them yelled, and Michael wasn’t about to stick around to hear whatever else he was going to say. 

He turned to run, putting some distance between them to the tune of their laughter in the background, but Cole appeared, blocking his path with one of the aluminum baseball bats. Michael stumbled, trying to turn too fast. He got his footing, running off again, but Spencer tackled him before he got far, forcing him to the ground. 

“Get the fuck off of me!” Michael yelled, trying to get someone’s attention. One of the windows in the math building was open, maybe they could help him. _Please, please someone hear me_. 

Spencer was on top of him, holding him down. He put his hand over Michael’s mouth, trying to shut him up. Michael bit him. 

“Fuck!” Spencer swore, ripping his hand away, “He fucking bit me!” 

Michael shoved him off, getting back to his feet. He was going to make a break for it, but he heard a slight whistle, and felt something much harder than a fist hit him across the back of his legs. There was a loud ringing noise and Michael cried out, falling down. 

He looked up despite the burning-stinging pain in his legs, seeing Cole standing above him with the baseball bat. _God, they want to kill me,_ he thought, frantically. His heart was pounding in his chest, but he couldn’t run. 

“What was that?” He heard, ever so faintly, from the building. 

“Fuck, don’t use that you idiot!” Dustin hissed to Cole, “They heard!” 

“Hey—” Michael tried to yell, tried to get some help, but Allen punched him and he saw stars, unable to complete his sentence. His teeth hit his lip, cutting it. He felt the blood flowing down his chin. He groaned. 

“Shut up, fag.” Allen said, reeling back his fist and punching again. 

Michael heard a snap, felt something sharp cutting into the side of his face in combination with the blunt pain of the blow. When he looked back, his vision was blurry but he couldn’t tell if it was because of the head trauma or because there was something wrong with his glasses. 

_My dad will kill me if I break my glasses_ , Michael thought. His head was foggy. He couldn’t focus on anything, couldn’t focus on what anyone was saying. He could just focus on the pain. 

He knew they hit him once, twice, three times more, could feel the sharp pain of one of them kicked him those three times, but he couldn’t do anything about it. He was too busy fighting for consciousness. 

“Help,” he whispered, though when the sound escaped him he knew no one could hear. He curled inward, hoping that maybe they might _stop_ if he looked pathetic enough. 

“Fuck, run!” He heard, and he heard the scrambling of them running away. There was a clatter as they dropped the baseball bat to the ground. Michael struggled to sit up, only getting about halfway there, and looked around the blurry world. Everything hurt. 

Michael saw a fuzzy figure coming towards him. He flinched back a little until he noticed that the person was wearing the same yellow sweater Brooke always wore. It turned out to be Brooke. 

“Michael!” She gasped, coming close enough to her that she was barely blurry, just soft around the edges, “Michael, are you okay?” 

“W-Where are m-my glasses?” Michael asked, feeling around the ground instead of answering her. He’d started shaking, why was he shaking? The scary, terrifying, horrifying part was over. Brooke was here, no one was going to punch him around her.

“Here, Brooke said, handing him something. Michael struggled to focus on it. It was his glasses, broken into two pieces. The right side-piece had snapped free from the rest of the glasses. Michael took them with shaky hands, looking down at the broken thing in his palms. He felt tears welling in his eyes. 

_I’m not going to cry over glasses. I’m not going to cry over glasses._ A tear slipped through despite his efforts. _It's just the pain. Fuck, I hurt to bad—_

“Oh, Mikey…” Brooke cooed. Michael wanted to correct her, he _hated_ that nickname, but he couldn’t bring himself to be mad in the moment.

He felt Brooke drag him into her arms. She was hugging him, holding him close. He sniffled hard, unable to keep all his tears back. They mixed with the blood from his lip. He drew in a shaky breath.

“I’ve got blood all over my face.” He said into Brooke’s boobs. He didn’t try to pull back. She pet his hair. 

“If I didn’t know how to get blood out of clothes I’d be screwed on a monthly basis.” She said, but she backed up anyways, “We need to get you to the nurse.” 

“I- um. I’m not sure if I can walk.” Michael admitted, his voice a whisper. His legs hurt so bad, he was so sore. He kind of wanted to tell Brooke to just let him die there. He knew she wouldn’t, so he saved his energy. 

“I can help you,” Brooke said, getting to her feet. She offered her hand, “Come on.” 

Michael allowed her to drag him to his feet. He tried to choke back a noise of pain, but was only moderately successful, stumbling slightly and almost falling back to the ground. Brooke caught him, but it was a near thing. 

“Wh-why were you here?” Michael asked, realizing that there was no reason for Brooke to be there at all, “I-I thought that maybe… maybe a teacher heard. From the window.” 

Brooke positioned them so that Michael’s arm was around her shoulders, wrapping her free arm around his waist. She was like a full-body crutch. They took a step forward.

“I was helping Mrs. Samson correct papers in the math room. She, uh, saw what happened when we went to the window. I think she went to go get your dad.” Brooke said, starting to guide them towards the building, “Didn’t you hear her yell?” 

Michael shook his head, but it made him dizzy so he stopped. They were moving faster than he thought, they were almost at the door. Or maybe he had just zoned out. 

Michael halted at the doors. Brooke turned her head to look at him sideways. 

“I don’t want to walk through the halls,” Michael admitted, “People will see me.” 

He couldn’t read Brooke’s face, she was too fuzzy and at too weird of an angle. 

“It’ll be okay, everyone should be in their classes.” She assured him, opening the door and walking him in. 

She was right, the halls were deserted. Well, except for—

“Michael, what happened?” 

Michael knew the voice, even if he couldn’t actually see Jenna. He stumbled a little. 

Jenna was texting, he could see the blurry outline of the phone in her hands and he remembered how she generally made excuses to bail on her last class of the day, sometimes sitting with Michael. He felt his face contort with dread, not wanting the world to hear about his state. He was about to open his mouth to say something but—

“Jenna, I love you, but for once in your life could you not broadcast this to the whole school?” Brooke hissed. Michael looked at her in shock. She must have seen his face.

“Brooke!” Jenna said, sounding hurt. Brooke frowned, even Michael could see that. 

“I’m sorry. Michael just doesn’t want anyone to know.” Brooke said, sounding mildly remorseful. 

Michael thought about it. The news was going to get out anyhow and at least he was _friends_ with Jenna. 

“No-” Michael started, “You can… you can say whatever, Jenna, but can you like… I don’t know, tell Jeremy first? I just. I don’t want him to find out from someone else—” 

“Yeah, yeah of course.” Jenna said, probably pulling out her phone, from what Michael could decipher, “Do you want your dad?” 

“I think he’ll be at the nurse’s office.” Brooke said, “Thanks Jenna.” 

They started their walk to the nurse’s office once more. They finally got there and the nurse, seemingly ready for him, ushered them to one of the rooms. Michael nearly collapsed onto the cot, trying to catch his breath. That walk had almost killed him. 

“I have a hall pass for you, Miss Lohst,” the nurse said, handing Brooke a slip, “You should head off to class.” 

“You’ll be okay, right?” Brooke asked. Michael could see his blood on her sweater. He nodded. She patted his head comfortingly and walked out, leaving him on his own.

“Here,” the nurse said, handing him two painkillers. It was the Wednesday nurse, which meant she wasn’t going to sit and chat with him like Nurse Pam normally did. He dutifully swallowed the pills. “Mr. Mell said he was going to be here in a few minutes.” 

Michael hated to think of what was keeping him. “C-can I have an ice pack?” 

The nurse nodded and walked off. Michael closed his eyes, trying to tune out the pain. It wasn’t working, and now he had nothing else to focus on. He was still shaking. _Why_. 

Michael heard the door open. He opened his eyes, expecting the nurse, but his father stood there instead, ice pack in hand.

“H-hi dad,” he mumbled, trying to think of _what on Earth_ he was going to tell him. 

His father walked in, handing him the ice pack. Michael gratefully took it, though the movement hurt, and put it under his legs, where the pain throbbed the worst. 

“Michael, you need to tell me what’s going on,” his father said, “No more of this ‘blowing over’ nonsense. I need names.” 

Michael swallowed hard and nodded. He wanted this to end too, but he was so _scared_.

“But w-what if they find out I told you?” Michael asked, wincing at the shaky state of his own voice. The fear was raw in it and he wished he could see his dad’s face but he was also grateful he couldn’t. 

“ _Hijo_ , I can have them _expelled_ if you want me to.” His dad said, his tone dangerous. Michael shook his head. He didn’t want that, didn’t want _special treatment_.

“No, it’s… it’s fine. I don’t want them expelled I just,” he sniffled. Crying on Brooke had not used up his tear quota for the day and he was dangerously close to crying again, “I just don’t want- I just want them to leave me _alone_.”

“Who are they?”

Michael took a deep breath. The moment of truth. 

“Cole, Spencer, Dustin, and Allen.” He said, feeling like a traitor. He could feel the panic swelling in his chest as his father nodded. 

“Thank you,” he said, “I am going to be pulling them out of class. Unless you need me to stay?”

Michael shook his head, ignoring the dizziness it brought on. His father patted his shoulder and he tried not to wince. His whole body still hurt. 

“I’ll get Amanda to bring you some painkillers.” His father said, and left the room.

The nurse came back with two pills and a glass of water. Michael squinted at the pills as she waited impatiently for him to take them. They were aspirin. That was not going to cut it.

“Can I have like… Tylenol or something?” He asked, “For the swelling?”

“Are you trying to tell me how to do my job?” She asked. Michael sighed and took the pills. 

The nurse swept from the room and Michael was left alone again. His leg was pretty icy, though still painful, so he transferred the cold (now cool) pack to his face. He hugged his ribs, hoping that the pressure would help alleviate the pain. 

He sat in silence for a few moments. He wished he had his headphones, listening to music would be helpful, but this time he didn’t even have his cellphone on him. 

Michael glanced at the door when he heard noise from the front area. Someone else was probably being checked in. They’d get a different room, he was sure; the other two rooms were empty. 

There was a light knock on the door, more courtesy than the nurse or his father had really afforded him, and it swung open. 

“J-Jeremy?” Michael asked, his voice colored with surprise. He dropped his ice pack, “W-what-?”

“Michael!” Jeremy gasped, rushing over and taking his hand, “Jenna didn’t say it was this bad.”

“Wh-what is Jenna saying about me?” Michael asked, suddenly nervous. Jeremy was holding his hand. Why was Jeremy holding his hand? 

“She said you got in a fight during gym, and you won.” Jeremy said, “I take it she didn’t exactly have the whole story?” 

“No I just- I just saw her in the hall.” Michael stuttered, “And I didn’t _win_.”

“What happened?” Jeremy asked, sitting lightly on the edge of Michael’s cot. There was hardly any room and it couldn’t have been more comfortable than standing, but he was closer so Michael wasn’t complaining, “Where are your glasses?” 

“Oh,” Michael said, using his free hand to pull them out of his pocket. Now that he got a better look, it looked like the lens was cracked. There was no way he was going to be able to drive home. Jeremy let go of his hand to take the glasses. He rummaged through his backpack and came up with some tape. 

“Tell me what happened.” Jeremy said, starting to tape Michael’s glasses back together. Michael felt tears welling in his eyes, _This is too nice, he’s being too nice_ and, despite everything, the whole story came spilling out. 

He told Jeremy about how the kids in gym had never liked him, how—once he’d come out of the closet—they would mock him in the locker room. He told him about his shoes and the petition and how Mr. Raymond had told his _father_. He told him about the time after running, about how they had waited for him to jump him. He told him about how Rich kept them at bay. He told him about how today, when they knew he’d just broken up, when they knew Rich wouldn’t be there, they’d cornered him after class was over with a _baseball bat_ and—

“—and it was like they wanted to _kill me_ and I was so _scared_ and—” Michael cut himself off, drawing in a shaky breath. He’d started shivering again and he felt tears falling down his face, but he couldn’t bring himself to _care_ , but Jeremy was looking at him and he couldn’t really see his face and—

“Michael, Micah, calm down.” Jeremy said, putting a hand on his shoulder. Michael realized that his breathing had taken on a gaspy quality, like the beginnings of a panic attack. Michael supposed that maybe he _was_ about to have a panic attack, “Micah, please.” 

Michael dutifully took a few deep breaths, calming himself. Jeremy handed him his glasses. He put them on. They were a little crooked and the crack was distracting, but Michael was grateful to be able to see again. Jeremy was frowning. 

“Sorry,” Michael said, since he didn’t know what else to say. Jeremy made a noise of surprise. 

“‘Sorry’? Michael, you have nothing to be sorry about! You haven’t done anything wrong, those assholes—!” Jeremy cut himself off, seeming to know that the way he was beginning to yell was making Michael uncomfortable. Maybe he could see it on Michael’s face, “Those _assholes_ are the ones who should be sorry.” 

“Thank you,” Michael said, his voice shaky with emotion (and also probably pain, since the aspirin had done nothing to dull it). Jeremy took his hand again and Michael decided that he could just sit in silence and enjoy it for a moment. 

Actually, he couldn’t the silence did nothing to distract him from the pain all over his body. Might as well get it all over with. 

“A-aren’t you supposed to be in class or something?” Michael asked. Jeremy, who had been frowning into the middle distance, looked back at him. 

“I mean, I had Econ with your dad and he kind of… ran off, so I don’t think he’d mind.” Jeremy said, “Why, did you want me to leave?” 

“No! No, I, uh, I want you to stay.” Michael admitted.

There was another silence. 

“You told your dad who did it, right?” Jeremy asked, breaking the silence. Michael nodded, realizing he’d never gotten to that point in the story, “Good, I was worried.” 

“Why, though?” Michael blurted out, “Why were you so worried? I- I know you’re my best friend and all, but… you- you came out of class for this! You’re holding my hand, why-?” 

Michael cut himself off. He was afraid Jeremy would stop holding his hand, that his words would remind Jeremy that there was no one to pretend for and he’d _leave_.

“I, uh, I love you, Michael.” Jeremy said, so quietly and sincerely that Michael needed to take a breath. 

“I know,” Michael said, not letting himself hope this time, “I’m your best friend.” 

“I don’t love you like a best friend, Michael.” Jeremy said, tightening his grip on Michael’s hand, “I really love you. I want to date you and hold your hand and make out with you and-- I want it to be real this time.” 

“You-you can’t,” Michael stammered, “Wh-what about Christine? You’re straight!” 

“I’m bi,” Jeremy corrected and _okay, since when have you been bi, why didn’t you **tell me**_ , “and are you still mad about Christine?” 

“I mean,” Michael began. He did not know where he was going, he really wasn’t mad about Christine, “Why did you kiss her?” 

“Dude, we dated for like half a year,” Jeremy said, “And she moved away and we never got to break up except over text. That was her ‘official breakup kiss’.” 

“Oh.”

_Christine **would** do that._ Despite himself, Michael felt his heart swell with hope. Could Jeremy really be—? The end of class bell rang in the background, shaking Michael from his thoughts. 

“So, do you want to go out with me?” Jeremy asked, giving him a soft half-smile, “For real?” 

“Y-you’re not doing this out of pity, right? Because dude, I know I’m like obviously in love with you, but—” 

Michael was cut off by Jeremy kissing him, something he assumed Jeremy was trying to make a habit of. Michael’s lip stung where it was split and he jerked back a little, ending the kiss too soon. 

“Sorry,” Jeremy whispered, still close to his face. 

“It’s fine,” Michael said, “and yes, I’ll go out with you.” 

Jeremy grinned and looked like he was about to lean in for another kiss, when the door slammed open. The boys jolted apart, looking at the intruder. 

“Michael, I’m _so sorry_ ,” Rich cried, sounding miserable, “I didn’t think—” 

“It’s fine,” Michael said, not wanting to see Rich cry or anything. He wanted no part in that, “Really, I’m okay.” 

“You are _not_ okay.” Rich and Jeremy said in unison, looking at each other in surprise after it came out of their mouths. 

“You want us to beat them up?” Rich asked, “I’m ready to beat them up. You just tell me and I’ll hand them their asses.” 

“Count me in,” Jeremy said. Rich looked surprised, but nodded. Michael laughed. 

“Jere, you’re like, a beanpole. You’re not about to beat _anyone_ up.” He said, grinning at his idiot of a boyfriend. 

“I can too beat things up!” Jeremy protested, “I bet I’d win in a fight against, like, a small animal.” 

“Neither of you are allowed to beat anything up,” Michael said, “I told my dad about what happened, so… it should all be okay.” 

Rich looked doubtful, but he nodded. Jeremy squeezed Michael’s hand again. 

“If it’s not okay can we beat them up?” Rich asked. Michael laughed and winced, letting go of Jeremy’s hand to clutch at his aching ribs. He coughed, “Jesus Christ.” 

“Yeah,” Michael rasped out, “Yeah, you can beat them up if it’s not okay later.” 

The nurse chose that moment to walk in with Michael’s stuff. He wondered where she got it, until he noticed Jake behind her, looking in anxiously. Their whole friend group must have been in the waiting room, trying to see if he was okay now that school was over. Michael felt choked up again. 

“Everybody get out so Mr. Mell can change.” She said, thrusting the bag into Michael’s hands, “Your father is going to take you to the hospital.” 

“Okay,” Michael said. Rich left, but Jeremy lingered at the nurse looked at them impatiently. 

“Want me to drive your car home?” Jeremy asked. Michael nodded and dug through the bag to give him his keys. When he handed them over, Jeremy pressed a soft kiss to his unbruised cheek, “Feel better, babe.” 

Michael grinned at the stupid, coupley nickname as he watched Jeremy leave to join their group in the waiting area. _Fuck, I love that kid so much_.

Maybe things were going to get better. Maybe this was the start of something good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave kudos, I need them to pay for a passport and a plane ticket for two (me and the Hug Me Elmo)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Behind them, the Cha Cha Slide started blasting._   
>  _“Oh man,” Michael said, letting go of Jeremy’s face, which he’d been holding dramatically, “My jam!”_
> 
> Homecoming!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally over! I'm sorry this update took so long, I've just been super busy lately (I know, shocking to find out that I have a life). But here it is! Thank you so much to everyone who left comments and kudos, or even just read this fic! I'll have more out soon!

Michael took a deep breath and looked at himself in the mirror one last time. He was wearing a red suit, freshly rented from the store, and he’d felt fly as fuck when he tried it on, but… was it going to be good enough? This was going to be his and Jeremy’s first date, first _real_ date since they’d gotten together. 

God, they must have been annoying to _everyone_ for the past week. The constant gooey romantic bullshit they were pulling was bound to get old sometime, what with all the hand holding and walking each other to class. Michael’s heart melted a bit every time he thought about it, even as his inner-Rich mocked him. 

Since when had he gotten an inner-Rich? He must have been rubbing off with Jeremy’s friends too much lately. 

Michael straightened his tie and headed out. His mom reminded him as he left that his father would be there at the dance to take pictures and to take some of those “selfie-ies”. (Michael had tried to teach her how to pronounce it, but he was now convinced she said it like this on purpose). He got into his (freshly cleaned of drive thru wrappers and CD cases) car and headed over. 

He parked in the driveway and hesitated. 

“Okay Tom,” Michael said to his car, psyching himself up, “we’ve got this. Mr. Heere loves me. This’ll be fine.” 

He unbuckled and headed in, ready for a shovel talk or something similar (thanking whatever deity might exist that the collar of this shirt covered his yellowing hickey). To his surprise, Mr. Heere opened the door and greeted him by blinding him with a camera flash. 

“What--?” 

“Sorry Michael, I’m just really excited!” Mr. Heere said, ushering him in, “Jeremy’s never had a date to a dance before!” 

“Mr. Heere, me and Jeremy went to all the dances together in middle school.” Michael pointed out as Jeremy’s father took a picture of him reaching for a cup of water. 

“This is different! Jeremy’s becoming his true self now!” Mr. Heere said, clapping Michael on the shoulder, “You know, I haven’t had a conversation with that boy where he hasn’t mentioned you in months.” 

“Months? Really?” Michael asked, surprised. Jeremy’s father raised an eyebrow. Michael quickly covered, “I didn’t think the honeymoon phase would last that long.” 

“Boy, as soon as Christine moved it was ‘Michael’s just so smart’, ‘Michael said this’, ‘I wonder if Michael wants to hang out today’. Nonstop.” Mr. Heere said, nodding, “I guess it’s no wonder why, since the two of you were dating that whole time, but I really wish you’d have told me sooner. Then I wouldn’t have left all those pamphlets around about safe sex in LGBT relationships--” 

“DAD!” 

Michael was laughing too hard to notice Jeremy walk in, ready to go. He was holding a plastic case with a flower in it and had evidently pinned one to himself already. He looked scandalized at his father.

“What? I just care about you and--” 

“Dad, that’s enough! We don’t need a sex talk! We know how it works!” Jeremy said, frantically waving his hands, as if it would dispel his father’s words. The poor flower bounced around its plastic cage. 

“You know how it works?” His dad asked, sounding equally disturbed. 

“Porn! We’ve seen porn!” Jeremy blurted. 

Michael was almost on the floor, he was laughing so hard. The only thing keeping him upright was the fact that he’d _rented_ this suit and his mom would kill him if he got it dirty. 

“Oh my god,” he gasped, trying to save his boyfriend from utter embarrassment, “We saw a movie in sex ed.” 

“Oh.” Jeremy’s father said. 

“Right! That was pornographic! Because there was sex! You signed a permission slip!” Jeremy said, ready to latch onto any excuse. 

“Huh,” Mr. Heere said, “Alright then.” 

“Let’s go, Michael! Gotta get to the dance, don’t wait up!” Jeremy said, pushing at Michael. Michael let himself be guided, until Mr. Heere grabbed both of those shoulders. 

“Not so fast! I need pictures of the both of you!” 

“Really?” Jeremy complained. Michael just slid his arm around Jeremy, subjecting himself to his fate. 

“Can you send some to my parents?” He asked, “My dad’s not great at taking photos.” 

After an agonizingly long five minutes of Mr. Heere taking pictures and Jeremy complaining, they were reluctantly released into the wild. 

“Text me when you get to the Mells’ house!” Jeremy’s father called after them, “And take more pictures!” 

“God, why does he want so many pictures?” Jeremy grumbled, “It’s not like he’s going to remember it.” 

“I don’t know, it’s kind of sweet.” Michael said, waiting for Jeremy to be done buckling, “And I want some pictures after tonight too. You look amazing.”

Michael had noticed, in the kitchen between the laughter and the photo shoot, that Jeremy looked _good_ in a suit. It hugged his skinny frame, accentuated it even because the suit was black, and he looked downright _sexy_. 

Michael swallowed down the part of himself that wanted to hunch down (even in the privacy of his own car) because his suit wasn’t accentuating anything as much as it was hiding all the parts of himself that were undesirable. How could he stand next to Jeremy looking like… this? 

“Ready?” Jeremy asked, shaking him from his thoughts. Michael grinned. 

“Ready.” 

And they drove off to the school. 

… 

They paused at the entrance. 

“I forgot,” Jeremy said, “I meant to give you this.”

He offered Michael the plastic case with the abused boutineer inside. Michael took it. 

“Can you help me pin it on? I’ve never been good with stabby things.” Michael asked, giving it back. 

“If you help me with my tie.” Jeremy said. Michael nodded in agreement, Jeremy’s tie looked horrendous. (Maybe that was the ten years of being dragged to church in his Sunday best talking, but _how does Jeremy not know how to die a tie?_ )

Jeremy carefully pinned the tie to Michael. Michael fixed Jeremy’s tie. He smoothed it down once he was done and looked up at his boyfriend. _God, he looks so good._ He leaned up and kissed him, just once, just for a second. He wanted to do it just because now he _could_.

“What was that for?” Jeremy asked, grinning. 

“Luck.” Michael said, shrugging before he took Jeremy’s hand and led him into the building. 

They walked into the school hand in hand, only to be broken apart by Brooke in a flowy yellow dress, who launched herself at them in a hug. 

“You’re late! Why are you guys always late?” She asked, hanging off of them. Jeremy laughed awkwardly. 

“My dad wanted pictures.” 

Hey!” Jake called, waving at them and jogging over. He stopped dead in front of Michael.

“Same suit.” Michael said.

“Same suit.” Jake replied. 

They high fived. Michael knew that this was how the ritual went. 

“I think Rich spiked the punch.” Jake reported, “Mostly because I saw him pour an entire flask into the bowl.” 

“There’s a reasonable suspicion there.” Michael agreed, “Where is it?” 

And thus, they were swept up into the dance. 

… 

There was something eerie about being in an abandoned high school hallways after dark, when the music was pumping faintly through the building and the lights were on but dim. Michael closed his eyes and listened to the thrumming of the drums and the buzz from the florescent lights, trying to catch his breath. 

They’d made it in, drank a little spiked punch, met all their friends, posed for Michael’s dad (very briefly), and even danced a little. Michael needed a minute though, and the crowded boys bathroom was _not_ cutting it. He’d be fine in a second, he just needed to breathe. 

“Michael Mell, you are _not_ going to miss watching me win Homecoming Queen, are you?” Michael heard from down the hall. He looked up to see Chloe in her beautiful, skin tight silver dress. It would go perfectly with the crown. That was probably why she picked it. 

“But where’s the drama?” Michael asked, “I’m supposed to be on the edge of my seat!” 

“Shut up, Michael. Your boyfriend misses you.” She said, grabbing his arm and dragging him back. Michael allowed it. 

“But I’ve only been gone five minutes!” 

“That was four and a half minutes too long for Jeremy.” Chloe grumbled, “Now go do the electric slide or something with him and stick around for the next five minutes! I need your moral support.” 

“But why? You don’t have any morals.” 

Michael supposed he deserved to be hit for that. 

They arrived back at the gym and Jeremy, who seemed to have been waiting by the gym doors for him, lit up, running for him. 

“Michael!” 

“Jeremy!” 

“It’s been so long!” 

“Ages!” 

“Centuries!” 

“Millenia!” 

“I thought I’d never see you again!” 

“You’re even more beautiful than I remember!” 

“Get a room.” Chloe said, elbowing past them and walking into the gym. Michael and Jeremy dissolved into a fit of laughter. Behind them, the Cha Cha Slide started blasting. 

“Oh man,” Michael said, letting go of Jeremy’s face, which he’d been holding dramatically, “My jam!” 

He pushed Jeremy into the gym and forced him to line up with their friends, laughing his way through his boyfriend’s awkward movements. He felt so lighthearted, like nothing could get him down. He may even have jokingly slapped Jeremy’s butt. 

The music died and the hired DJ held up an envelope. He cleared his throat to gain everyone’s attention. 

“Alright, I’ve got the winners of Homecoming King and Queen! Quiet down so y’all can hear!” He said, his voice booming through the gym. Michael saw some stragglers run in, eagerly waiting to hear who won. 

Michael wondered why any of them cared that much. The only guys on the ballot had been Jake and some other, lesser jock, while the only girls had been Chloe, another popular girl, and some girl whose friends obviously nominated her. _I mean, there was that spot for write-ins, but no one advertised as much as Chloe_.

“Homecoming King is…. Jake Dillinger!” The DJ said, to no one’s surprise. The crowd cheered and Rich let out the loudest, most ear-splitting whistle Michael had ever heard. 

Jake climbed that stage, bending down to allow the DJ to crown him. Michael was pretty sure that that wasn’t how the passing of royalty went, if Princess Diaries was anything to go by, but he’d allow it. 

“And the Homecoming Queen is…” The DJ paused. Michael was pretty sure Chloe paid him to do that, since the pause was so much longer than Jake’s. He could see Chloe subtly making her way towards the stage. “Michael Mell?” 

Michael’s heart dropped. He could feel everyone’s eyes on him. He locked eyes with his father, who had been sulking in the corner and breaking up couples who were grinding too hard. _What the fuck am I supposed to do?_ He could feel his heart rate picking up, felt Jeremy squeezing his hand extra tight, felt like he was about to go into a full-on panic attack in front of _everyone_ and--

“YAS QUEEN, FUCK IT UP!” Michael looked next to him to see Rich screaming. Chloe wolf whistled somehow louder than Rich had for Jake and Brooke and Jenna started cheering and applauding so hard that the gym of kids joined in on reflex. Rich nudged Michael towards the stage and Michael reluctantly let go of Jeremy’s hand to get there. 

The DJ put the dainty crown on his head, once he’d gotten on stage. Jake threw his arm around Michael’s shoulders, pulling him closer to pose for the cameras. Michael managed a smile and the DJ pulled the both of them aside. 

“Yo, normally we have the King and Queen dance, but if you’re not comfortable…” 

“Nah, I’m cool. You cool, Mike?” Jake asked, looking about a thousand times more confident than Michael ever would. 

“Yeah, I’m cool.” 

“It’ll be a slow dance.” The DJ warned them. Michael saw something akin to vengeance in Jake’s eyes. 

“Even better.” 

He led Michael down the stairs and they took their place in the center of the crowd. Jake held Michael’s waist and Michael clutched his shoulders, his heart still beating too fast in the wake of everyone’s eyes being on him. 

“It’s a good thing we match.” Jake said as the music started up. It was some Rihanna song. Jake was guiding him to the music. “Chloe kept texting me to make sure we’d match.” 

Michael had noticed that Jake was wearing a silver flower on his suit and Chloe had red ones around her wrist. She really must have gotten to him. 

“Yeah,” Michael agreed, “Never thought I’d be dancing with the most popular guy in school.” 

“Are all your gay dreams coming true?” Jake asked, his tone joking. Michael laughed. 

“Yeah, sure. I’ll have two boys fighting over me, the popular guy and my best friend. Who will I choose?” He asked dramatically. Jake laughed back. 

They danced in silence for a minute. Other people were starting to dance around them, couples not wanting to miss their chance at a slow dance. Michael glanced to their friends to see that Chloe had forced Jeremy to dance with her. 

“You know, I’m glad I’m dancing with you, Michael.” Jake said at last, “I love Chloe but… I’m not with her anymore, you know? And after all that drama with her and Christine… I guess what I’m trying to say is that I think I need someone… _different_.” 

“Different?” Michael asked. He followed Jake’s gaze, to where Brooke and Rich were dramatically twirling. Rich looked about to fall over. Jake let out a half laugh at the sight and Michael _knew_ which one he was looking at. 

“Yeah, different.” Jake said, and they looked back at each other. Michael offered him an encouraging grin. 

“Go for it! He’ll never know you feel that way until you tell him!” 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Jake said, and the song was almost over so Michael really should have expected it when Jake dramatically dipped him. 

“W-whoa!” He squeaked, looking up to see Jake’s face, _way_ too close for comfort. Jake kissed his forehead. It was weird. Jake got him back into a standing position, fluidly, like they had some kind of rhythm or something while there were two or three cheers from onlookers. “What was that all about?” 

“Listen, sometimes you gotta be dramatic.” Jake said, “Look at their faces!” 

Michael glanced over at their friends, who all had various amused faces. Rich, however, looked like he was pouting. How had Michael not seen this before? 

“Dude, I think for my sake you have to ask Rich to dance next. He’ll kick my ass.” 

“Oh yeah, speaking of ass-kicking,” Jake said, continuing to dance with Michael even as the song drew to a close, “Rich offered to beat those kids up for you if they did anything else and, well, the offer still stands.” 

“You’re not Rich, you can’t just offer his services.” 

“I’m like Rich B. Sub-Rich. Rich Adjacent.” Jake said, “God, I’ve been hanging out with you nerds too much.” 

“Yeah. Go for it.” Michael said, “I tried to take the high road.” 

Jake grinned. 

“Hey,” Jeremy said, tapping Jake on the shoulder, “You’re hogging the Homecoming Queen.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Jake said dramatically, “You are released, your majesty.” 

“Thank you, thank you,” Michael said, matching his corny drama, “Now go talk to Rich!” 

“That’s what I’m best at, bro.” Jake said, heading off. Michael took Jeremy’s hands and placed them on his hips, continuing the dance where Jake left off. 

“Are you good? Do you want to leave?” Jeremy asked, “I can’t believe they did that!” 

“I can.” Michael muttered, “But… no. I want to stay. I don’t want those assholes to ruin the night.” 

And for once, Michael was telling the truth. He didn’t want to go home, where everything was safe and boring. He wanted to be _out_ with his amazing friends and gorgeous boyfriend. Some dickheads were _not_ going to take that away from him. Jeremy pulled him closer, resting his head on Michael’s shoulder. 

“You look great tonight though. I didn’t know you’d look so good in a crown.” He said, his breath tickling Michael’s neck. 

“I was born for it.” Michael said, and Jeremy laughed once, before moving his head back up to kiss him. Michael moved back before it became not-chaste, not wanting his _dad_ , of all people, to have to break them up. He rested his head against Jeremy’s chest. 

“Hey Jeremy?” He asked, after a moment, looking up to meet his boyfriend’s blue eyes. 

“Hmm?” 

“I love you.” He said, leaning up to kiss his cheek, “Thanks for taking me tonight.” 

“I love you too.” Jeremy said, bringing a hand up to cup Michael’s cheek, “I can’t believe I get to date you for real. I can’t believe you’re here for _me_.” 

“I’ve been here this whole time!” Michael protested, “I would have dropped my panties in a _second_ any time you asked me.” 

“Is that a promise?” Jeremy asked. Michael felt his face heat up. 

“Do you want it to be?” 

“I want to dance with the Homecoming Queen!” Brooke said, and Michael hadn’t even noticed that the song had ended.

“Your adoring public awaits.” Jeremy said. Michael kissed him one more time, for luck. 

“I’ll come be back in a minute.” 

“Take your time,” Jeremy said, letting Brooke guide Michael away, “I’ll be here for you.” 

And Michael thought that maybe, as Brooke fixed his crown, this might be one of the best nights of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave kudos, the Hug Me Elmo and I need it to pay rent on our island cabana


End file.
